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WIT AND WISDOM 



OF 



DON QUIXOTE. 






Patch grief with proverbs. — Shakespeare. 



^Washing?- 



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NEW YORK: 

D. APPLETON & CO., 443 and 445 BROADWAY. 

1867. 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S67, 

By D. APPLETON & Co., S 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for 
the Southern District of New York. 



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PREFACE. 



As the priest, the friend of Don Quixote, when 
endeavoring to cure the mental malady of the 
knight (as he thought it) by destroying all his 
books of chivalry, in now and then saving one 
from condemnation, said of one of the contributors 
to the " Mirror of Chivalry : " " If I find him here 
speaking in any other language than his own, I 
will show him no respect ; but if he talks in his 
own tongue, I will place him on my head in token 
of regard." 

" I have got him at home," said the barber, 
"in Italian, but I don't understand that language." 

" Nor is it necessary you should," replied the 
curate. " And here let us pray Heaven to forgive 
the captain, who has impoverished him so much, 
by translating him into Spanish, and making him 
a Castilian. And, indeed, the same thing will 



IV PREFACE. 



happen to all those who pretend to translate books 
of poetry into a foreign language ; for, in spite of 
all their care and ability, they will find it impossi- 
ble to give the translation the same energy which 
is found in the original." 

So, in giving (or trying to so do) a translation 
of the proverbs, poems, and aphorisms of Don 
Quixote, I must be pardoned for impoverishing 
them so much, and making the knight of the rueful 
countenance an Englishman, while I at the same 
time acknowledge my indebtedness to the many 
more able translators preceding me, believing, to 
quote the priest again, that, " since Apollo was 
Apollo ; the muses, muses ; and the bards were 
poets, so humorous and so w T himsical a book as 
Don Quixote was never written." 

We find gleaning from the text of Cervantes all 
that is knightly and noble. I know of no literature 
in the world so rich in proverbs as the Spanish ; 
indeed, there exists a manuscript collection, gath- 
ered by that distinguished Spanish scholar, Juan 
Yriarte, containing between twenty-five and thirty 
thousand. Yriarte devoted himself to this pursuit 
with such eagerness that he offered a fee for any 
new proverb brought him, while to each inserted 
in his list he attached a memorandum from whence 



PREFACE. V 

it came, and if this was not from books but from 
life, an indication of the name, the rank, and the 
condition in life of the person from whom it was 
derived. According to Trench, having a right to 
take Cervantes as the truest exponent of the Span- 
ish character, " We should be prepared to trace in 
the proverbs of Spain a grave thoughtfulness, a 
stately humor ; to find them breathing the very 
spirit of chivalry and honor, and indeed of freedom 
too." 



WIT AND WISDOM 



OF 



DON QUIXOTE. 



Down in a village of La Mancha, the name of 
which I have no desire to recollect, there lived, not 
long ago, one of those gentlemen who usually keep 
a lance upon a rack, an old buckler, a lean horse, 
and a coursing greyhound. Soup, composed of 
somewhat more mutton than beef, the fragments 
served up cold on most nights, lentils on Fridays, 
pains and breakings on Saturdays, and a pigeon, by 
way of addition, on Sundays, consumed three-fourths 
of his income; the remainder of it supplied him 
with a cloak of fine cloth, velvet breeches, with 
slippers of the same for holidavs, and a suit of the 
best homespun, in which he adorned himself on 
week-days. His family consisted of a housekeeper 
above forty, a niece not quite twenty, and a lad 
who served him both in the field and at home, who 
could saddle the horse or handle the pruning-hook. 



2 WIT AND WISDOM 

The age of our gentleman bordered upon fifty 
years ; he was of a strong constitution, spare-bodied, 
of a meagre visage, a very early riser, and a lover 
of the chase. Some pretend to say that his surname 
was Quixada, or Quesada, for on this point his his- 
torians differ ; though, from very probable conjec- 
tures, we may conclude that his name was Quixana. 
This is, however, of little importance to our his- 
tory ; let it suffice that, in relating it, we do not 
swerve a jot from the truth. 

In fine, his judgment being completely obscured, 
he was seized with one of the strangest fancies that 
ever entered the head of any madman : this was, 
a belief that it behooved him, as well for the advance- 
ment of his glory as the service of his country, to 
become a knight-errant, and traverse the world, 
armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, and to 
practise all that had been performed by knights- 
errant, of whom he had read ; redressing every 
species of grievance, and exposing himself to dan- 
gers which, being surmounted, might secure to him 
eternal glory and renown. The poor gentleman 
imagined himself at least crowned emperor of Treb- 
isond, by the valor of his arm ; and thus wrapped 
in these agreeable delusions, and borne away by the 
extraordinary pleasure he found in them, he hast- 
ened to put his designs into execution. 

The first thing he did was to scour up some 
rusty armor, which had been his great-grandfather's, 
and had lain many years neglected in a corner. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 3 

This he cleaned and adjusted as well as he could, 
but he found one grand defect ; the helmet was in- 
complete, having only the morion ; this deficiency, 
however, he ingeniously supplied, by making a kind 
of visor of pasteboard, which, being fixed to the 
morion, gave the appearance of an entire helmet. 
It is true indeed that, in order to prove its strength, 
he drew his sword, and gave it two strokes, the first 
of which instantly demolished the labor of a week ; 
but not altogether approving of the facility with 
which it was destroyed, and in order to secure him- 
self against a similar misfortune, he made another 
visor, which, having fenced in the inside with small 
bars of iron, he felt assured of its strength, and, 
without making any more experiments, held it to 
be a most excellent helmet. 

In the next place he visited his steed ; and al- 
though this animal had more blemishes than the 
horse of Gonela, which " tantum pellis et ossa fuit," 
yet, in his eyes, neither the Bucephalus of Alexan- 
der, nor the Cid's Babieca, could be compared with 
him. Four days was he deliberating upon what 
name he should give him ; for, as he said to him- 
self, it would be very improper that a horse so ex- 
cellent, appertaining to a knight so famous, should 
be without an appropriate name ; he therefore en- 
deavored to find one that should express what he 
had been before he belonged to a knight-errant, and 
also w T hat he now was : nothing could, indeed, be 
more reasonable than that, when the master changed 



4 WIT AND WISDOM 

his state, the horse should likewise change his name, 
and assume one, pompous and high-sounding, as 
became the new order he now professed. So after 
having devised, altered, lengthened, curtailed, re- 
jected, and again framed in his imagination a variety 
of names, he finally determined upon Rozinante, a 
name, in his opinion, lofty, sonorous, and full of 
meaning ; importing that he had been only a rozin^ 
a drudge-horse, before his present condition, and 
that now he was before all the rozins in the 
world. 

Having given his horse a name so much to his 
satisfaction, he resolved to fix upon one for himself. 
This consideration employed him eight more days, 
when at length he determined to call himself Don 
Quixote ; whence some of the historians of this 
most true history have concluded that his name was 
certainly Quixada, and not Quesada, as others 
would have it. Then recollecting that the valor- 
ous Amadis, not content with the simple appellation 
of Amadis, added thereto the name of his kingdom 
and native country, in order to render it famous, 
styling himself Amadis de Gaul ; so he, like a good 
knight, also added the name of his province, and 
called himself Don Quixote de la Mancha; whereby, 
in his opinion, he fully proclaimed his lineage and 
country, which, at the same time, he honored by 
taking its name. 

His armor being now furbished, his helmet 
made perfect, his horse and himself provided with 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 5 

names, he found nothing wanting but a lady to be 
in love with, as he said — 

A knight-errant without a mistress was a tree 
without either fruit or leaves, and a body without a 
soul ! 

In the mean time Don Quixote tampered with a 
laborer, a neighbor of his, and an honest man (if 
such an epithet can be given to one that is poor), 
but shallow-brained ; in short, he said so much, used 
so many arguments, and made so many promises, 
that the poor fellow resolved to sally out with him 
and serve him in the capacity of a squire. Among 
other things, Don Quixote told him that he ought 
to be very glad to accompany him, for such an ad- 
venture might some time or the other occur, that by 
one stroke an island might be won, where he might 
leave him governor. With this and other promises, 
Sancho Panza (for that was the laborer's name) left 
his w T ife and children, and engaged himself as squire 
to his neighbor. 



x t>' 



Modesty well becomes beauty, and excessive 
laughter proceeding from slight cause is folly. 

Keep your mouth shut, and your eyes open. 

The brave man carves out his own fortune, 

" Where art thou, mistress of my heart, 
Unconscious of thy lover's smart ? 



WIT AND WISDOM 

Ah me ! thou know'st not my distress, 
Or thou art false and pitiless." 

" If I find him here uttering any other language 
than his own, I will show no respect ; but if he 
speaks in his own tongue, I will put him upon my 
head." 

" I have him in Italian," said the barber, " but 

1 do not understand him." 

" Neither is it any great matter, whether you 
understand him or not," answered the priest ; " and 
we would willingly have excused the good captain 
from bringing him into Spain and making him a 
Castilian ; for he has deprived him of a great deal 
of his native value ; which, indeed, is the misfor- 
tune of all those who undertake the translation of 
poetry into other languages ; for, with all their care 
and skill, they can never bring them on a level with 
the original production." 

" The devil lurks behind the cross." 
" There cannot be too much of a good thing." 
" What is lost to-day may be won to-morrow." 
" A saint may sometimes suffer for a sinner." 
" Many go out for wool and return shorn." 

Matters of war are most subject to continual 
change. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. J 

Every man that is aggrieved is allowed to defend 
himself by all laws human and divine. 

Truth is the mother of history, the rival of 
time, the depository of great actions, witness of the 
past, example and adviser of the present, and oracle 
of future ages. 

Love, like knight-errantry, puts all things on a 
level. 

* " He that humhleth himself, God will exalt." 

After Don Quixote had satisfied his hunger, he 
took up a handful of acorns, and, looking on them 
attentively, gave utterance to expressions like these : 

" Happy times, and happy ages, were those 
which the ancients termed the Golden Age ! not 
because gold, so prized in this our iron age, was to 
be obtained, in that fortunate period, without toil ; 
but because they who then lived were ignorant of 
those two words, Mine and Thine. In that blessed 
age, all things were in common ; to provide their 
ordinary sustenance, no other labor was necessary 
than to raise their hands and take it from the sturdy 
oaks, which stood liberally inviting them to taste 
their sweet and relishing fruit. The limpid foun- 
tains and running streams offered them, in magnifi- 



* Showing that Cervantes was familiar with the Bible, as well as 
Latin classics. 



8 WIT AND WISDOM 

cent abundance, their delicious and transparent 
waters. In the clefts of rocks, and in hollow trees, 
the industrious and provident bees formed their 
commonwealths, offering to every hand, without 
interest, the fertile produce of their most delicious 
toil. The stately cork-trees, impelled by their own 
courtesy alone, divested themselves of their light 
and expanded bark, with which men began to cover 
their houses, supported by rough poles, only as a de- 
fence against the inclemency of the heavens. All 
then was peace, all amity, all concord. The heavy 
colter of the crooked plough had not yet dared to 
force open and search into the tender bowels of our 
first mother, who, unconstrained, offered, from 
every part of her fertile and spacious bosom, what- 
ever might feed, sustain, and delight those, her chil- 
dren, by whom she was then possessed." 



ANTONIO. 

Yes, lovely nymph, thou art my prize ; 

I boast the conquest of thy heart, 
Though nor the tongue, nor speaking eyes 5 

Have yet revealed the latent smart. 

Thy wit and sense assure my fate, 
In them my love's success I see ; 

Nor can he be unfortunate 

Who dares avow his flame for thee. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 9 

Yet sometimes hast thou frowned, alas ! 

And given my hopes a cruel shock ; 
Then did thy soul seem formed of brass. 

Thy snowy bosom of the rock. 

But in the midst of thy disdain, 
Thy sharp reproaches, cold delays, 

Hope from behind, to ease my pain, 
The border of her robe displays. 

Ah ! lovely maid ! in equal scale 

Weigh well thy shepherd's truth and love, 
Which ne'er, but with his breath, can fail, 

Which neither frowns nor smiles can move. 

If love, as shepherds wont to say, 

Be gentleness and courtesy, 
So courteous is Olalia, 

My passion will rewarded be. 

And if obsequious duty paid, 

The grateful heart can never move, 

Mine sure, my fair, may well persuade 
A due return, and claim thy love. 

For, to seem pleasing in thy sight, 
I dress myself with studious care, 

And, in my best apparel dight, 

My Sunday clothes on Monday wear. 

And shepherds say I'm not to blame ; 
For cleanly dress and spruce attire 



10 WIT AND WISDOM 

Preserve alive love's wanton flame, 
And gently fan the dying fire. 

To please my fair, in mazy ring 

I join the dance, and sportive play ; 

And oft beneath thy window sing, 

When first the cock proclaims the day. 

With rapture on each charm I dwell, 
And daily spread thy beauty's fame : 

And still my tongue thy praise shall tell, 
Though envy swell, or malice blame. 

Teresa of the Berrocal, 

When once I praised you, said in spite, 
Your mistress you an angel call, 

But a mere ape is your delight. 

Thanks to the bugle's artful glare, 
And all the graces counterfeit ; 

Thanks to the false and curled hair, 

Which wary Love himself might cheat. 

I swore 'twas false ; and said she lied ; 

At that her anger fiercely rose ; 
I boxed the clown that took her side, 

And how I boxed my fairest knows. 

I court thee not, Olalia, 

To gratify a loose desire ; 
My love is chaste, without alloy 

Of wanton wish, or lustful fire. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I J 

The church hath silken cords, that tie 
Consenting hearts in mutual bands : 

If thou, my fair, its yoke will try, 
Thy swain its ready captive stands. 

If not, by all the saints I swear 

On these bleak mountains still to dwell, 

Nor ever quit my toilsome care, 
But for the cloister and the cell. 



A clergyman must be over and above good, who 
makes all his parishioners speak well of him. 

Parents ought not to settle their children against 
their will. 

For never sure was any knight 
So served by damsel, or by dame, 

As Lancelot, that man of might, 
When he at first from Britain came. 

The soldier w T ho executes his captain's com- 
mand is no less valuable than the captain who 
gave the order. 

* One swallow does not make a summer. 

It is neither just nor wise to fulfil the will of 
him who commands what is utterly unreasonable. 



Showing also his familiarity with ./Esop. 



12 WIT AND WISDOM 

CHRYSOSTOM'S SONG. 

I. 

Since, cruel maid, you force me to proclaim 
From clime to clime the triumph of your scorn, 
Let hell itself inspire my tortured breast 
With mournful numbers, and untune my voice ; 
Whilst the sad pieces of my broken heart 
Mix with the doleful accents of my tongue, 
At once to tell my griefs and thy exploits. 
Hear, then, and listen with attentive ear — 
Not to harmonious sounds, but echoing groans, 
Fetched from the bottom of my lab'ring breast, 
To ease, in spite of thee, my raging smart. 

ii. 

The lion's roar, the howl of midnight wolves, 
The scaly serpent's hiss, the raven's croak, 
The burst of fighting winds that vex the main, 
The widowed owl and turtle's plaintive moan, 
With all the din of hell's infernal crew, 
From my grieved soul forth issue in one sound — 
Leaving my senses all confused and lost. 
For ah ! no common language can express 
The cruel pains that torture my sad heart. 

in. 
Yet let not Echo bear the mournful sounds 
To where old Tagus rolls his yellow sands, 
Or Betis, crowned with olives, pours his flood 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 13 

But here, 'midst rocks and precipices deep, 
Or to obscure and silent vales removed, 
On shores by human footsteps never trod, 
Where the gay sun ne'er lifts his radiant orb, 
Or with the envenomed face of savage beasts 
That range the howling wilderness for food, 
Will I proclaim the story of my woes — 
Poor privilege of grief! — while echoes hoarse 
Catch the sad tale, and spread it round the world, 

IV. 

Disdain gives death ; suspicions, true or false, 
O'erturn the impatient mind : with surer stroke 
Fell jealousy destroys ; the pangs of absence 
No lover can support ; nor firmest hope 
Can dissipate the dread of cold neglect ; 
Yet I, strange fate ! though jealous, though dis- 
dained, 
Absent, and sure of cold neglect, still live. 
And amidst the various torments I endure, 
No ray of hope e'er darted on my soul, 
Nor would I hope ; rather in deep despair 
Will I sit down, and, brooding o'er my griefs, 
Vow everlasting absence from her sight. 



Can hope and fear at once the soul possess, 
Or hope subsist with surer cause of fear ? 
Shall I, to shut out frightful jealousy, 
Close my sad eyes, when every pang I feel 



14 WIT AND WISDOM 

Presents the hideous phantom to my view ? 
What wretch so credulous but must embrace 
Distrust with open arms, when he beholds 
Disdain avowed, suspicions realized, 
And truth itself converted to a lie ? 
Oh, cruel tyrant of the realm of love, 
Fierce Jealousy, arm with a sword this hand, 
Or thou, Disdain, a twisted cord bestow ! 

VI. 

Let me not blame my fate ; but, dying, think 
The man most blest who loves, the soul most free 
That love has most enthralled. Still to my thoughts 
Let fancy paint the tyrant of my heart 
Beauteous in mind as face, and in myself 
Still let me find the source of her disdain 
Content to suffer, since imperial Love 
By lover's woes maintains his sovereign state. 
With this persuasion, and the fatal noose, 
I hasten to the doom her scorn demands, 
And, dying, offer up my breathless corse, 
Uncrowned with garlands, to the whistling winds. 

VII. 

Oh thou, whose unrelenting rigor's force 
First drove me to despair, and now to death ; 
When the sad tale of my untimely fall 
Shall reach thy ear, though it deserve a sigh, 
Veil not the heaven of those bright eyes in grief, 
Nor drop one pitying tear, to tell the world 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 5 

At length my death has triumphed o'er thy scorn : 
But dress thy face in smiles, and celebrate 
With laughter and each circumstance of joy 
The festival of my disastrous end. 
Ah ! need I bid thee smile ? too well I know 
My death's thy utmost glory and thy pride. 

VIII. 

Come, all ye phantoms of the dark abyss : 
Bring, Tantalus, thy unextinguished thirst, 
And Sisyphus, thy still returning stone ; 
Come Tityus, with the vulture at thy heart 5 
And thou, Ixion, bring thy giddy wheel 5 
Nor let the toiling sisters stay behind. 
Pour your united griefs into this breast, 
And in low murmurs sing sad obsequies 
(If a despairing wretch such rites may claim) 
O'er my cold limbs, denied a winding-sheet. 
And let the triple porter of the shades, 
The sister furies and chimeras dire, 
With notes of woe the mournful chorus join, 
Such funeral pomp alone befits the wretch 
By beauty sent untimely to the grave. 

IX. 

And thou, my song, sad child of my despair, 
Complain no more ; but since thy wretched fate 
Improves her happier lot who gave thee birth, 
Be all thy sorrows buried in my tomb. 



1 6 WIT AND WISDOM 

All beauty does not inspire love ; some please 
the sight without captivating the affections. If all 
beauties were to enamour and captivate, the hearts 
of mankind would be in a continual state of per- 
plexity and confusion — for beautiful objects being 
infinite, the sentiments they inspire should also be 
infinite. 

True love cannot be divided, and must be vol- 
untary and unconstrained. 

The viper deserves no blame for its sting, al- 
though it be mortal — because it is the gift of Na- 
ture. 

Beauty in a modest woman is like fire or a sharp 
sword at a distance ; neither doth the one burn nor 
the other wound those that come not too near them. 

Honor and virtue are ornaments of the soul, 
without which the body, though it be really beauti- 
ful, ought not to be thought so. 

Let him who is deceived complain. 

Let him to whom faith is broken despair. 

She who loves none can make none jealous, and 
sincerity ought not to pass for disdain. 

The body of a wretched swain, 
Killed by a cruel maid's disdain, 
In this cold bed neglected lies. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 7 

He lived, fond, hapless youth ! to prove 
Th' inhuman tyranny of love, 
Exerted in Marcela's eyes. 

Much time is necessary to know people thor- 
oughly. 

We aie sure of nothing in this life. 

There is no remembrance which time does not 
obliterate, nor pain which death does not terminate. 

Fortune always leaves some door open in mis- 
fortune. 

Sometimes we look for one thing and find 
another. 

Self-praise depreciates. 

The cat to the rat — the rat to the rope — the 
rope to the gallows. 

Out of the frying-pan into the fire. 

One man is no more than another, only inas- 
much as he does more than another. 

The lance never blunted the pen, nor the pen 
the lance. 

A mouth without teeth is like a mill without a 
stone. 

The dead to the bier, and the living to good 
cheer. 



1 8 WIT AND WISDOM 

He that seeketh danger perisheth therein. 

Fear hath many eyes. 

Evil to him that evil seeks. 

Everybody has not discretion to take things by 
the right handle. 

He loves thee well who makes thee weep. 

Shut one door, and another will soon open. 

Be brief in thy discourse, for what is prolix 
cannot be pleasing. 

Never stand begging for that which you have 
the power to take. 

A snatch from behind a bush is better than the 
prayer of good men. 

Customs come not altogether, neither were they 
all invented at once. 

Who sings in grief procures relief. 

To be grateful for benefits received is the duty 
of honest men — one of the sins that most offendeth 
God is ingratitude. 

Benefits conferred on base-minded people are 
like drops of water thrown into the sea. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 9 

Retreating is not running away, nor is staying 
wisdom when the danger overbalances the hope ; and 
it is the part of wise men to secure themselves to- 
day for to-morrow, and not to venture all upon one 
throw. 

The wicked are always ungrateful. 

Necessity urges desperate measures. 



1. 

Love either cruel is or blind ; 

Or still unequal to the cause, 
Is this distemper of the mind, 

That w T ith infernal torture gnaws. 



11. 

But Love's a god, and cruelty 

In heavenly breasts can never dwell : 

Then say by what authority 

I'm doomed to feel the pains of hell ? 

in. 

Of all my sufferings and my woe, 

Is Chloe then the fatal source ? 

Sure ill from good can never flow, 

Nor so much beauty gild a curse. 

2 



20 WIT AND WISDOM 

IV. 

With hopeless misery weighed down, 
I'll seek for quiet in the grave ; 

For when the malady's unknown, 
A miracle alone can save. 

The devil is subtle, and lays stumbling-blocks 
in our way, over which we fall without knowing 
how. 

In all misfortunes the greatest consolation is a 
sympathizing friend. 

Riches are but of little avail against the ills 
inflicted by the hand of Heaven. 

He that buys and denies, his own purse belies. 

Till you hedge in the sky, the starlings will fly. 

If a painter would be famous in his art, he must 
endeavor to copy after the originals of the most ex- 
cellent masters ; the same rule is also applicable to 
all the other arts and sciences which adorn the com- 
monwealth ; thus, whoever aspires to a reputation 
for prudence and patience, must imitate Ulysses, in 
whose person and toils Homer draws a lively pic- 
ture of those qualities; so also Virgil, in the char- 
acter of iEneas, delineates filial piety, courage, and 
martial skill, being representations of not what they 
really were, but of what they ought to be, in order 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 21 

to serve as models of virtue to succeeding genera- 
tions. 

The absent feel and fear every ill. 

From Hell there is no retention. 

One should not talk of halters in the house of 
the hanged. 

DON QUIXOTE'S LETTER TO DULCINEA DEL TOBCSO, 

High and Sovereign Lady : — He who is 
stabbed by the point of absence, and pierced by the 
arrows of love, O sweetest Dulcinea del Toboso, 
greets thee with wishes for that health which he en- 
joys not himself. If thy beauty despise me, if thy 
worth favor me not, and if thy disdain still pursue 
me, although inured to suffering I shall ill support 
an affliction which is not only severe but lasting. 
My good squire Sancho will tell thee, O ungrateful 
fair, and most beloved foe, to what a state I am re- 
duced on thy account. If it be thy pleasure to re- 
lieve me, I am thine ; if not, do what seemeth good 
to thee : for by my death I shall at once appease 
thy cruelty and my own passion. 

Until death thine, 
The Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. 



22 WIT AND WISDOM 



LINES DISCOVERED ON THE BARK OF A TREE, AD- 
DRESSED TO DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO. 

Ye lofty trees, with spreading arms, 

The pride and shelter of the plain ; 
Ye humble shrubs and flowery charms, 

Which here in springing glory reign ! 
If my complaints may pity move, 
Hear the sad story of my love ! 

While with me here you pass your hours, 
Should you grow faded with my cares, 

I'll bribe you with refreshing showers ; 
You shall be watered with my tears. 

Distant, though present in idea, 

I mourn my absent Dulcinea 

Del Toboso. 

Love's truest slave, despairing, chose 

This lonely wild, this desert plain, 
This silent witness of the woes 

Which he, though guiltless, must sustain. 
Unknowing why these pains he bears, 
He groans, he raves, and he despairs. 

With lingering fires love racks my soul : 
In vain I grieve, in vain lament ; 

Like tortured fiends I weep, I howl, 
And burn, yet never can repent. 

Distant, though present in idea, 

I mourn my absent Dulcinea 

Del Toboso. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 23 

While I through honor's thorny ways, 

In search of distant glory rove, 
Malignant fate my toil repays 

With endless woes and hopeless love. 
Thus I on barren rocks despair, 
And curse my stars, yet bless my fair. 

Love, armed with snakes, has left his dart, 
And now does like a fury rave ; 

And scourge and sting on every part, 
And into madness lash his slave. 

Distant, though present in idea, 

I mourn my absent Dulcinea 

Del Toboso. 

Let every man's fate kill him, or God who 
made him. 

1. 
Ah ! what inspires my woful strain ? 

Unkind disdain ! 
Ah ! what augments my misery ? 

Fell jealousy ! 
Or, say, what hath my patience worn ? 

An absent lover's scorn ! 
The torments then that I endure 
No mortal remedy can cure ; 
For every languid hope is slain 
By absence, jealousy, disdain! 

11. 
From love, my unrelenting foe ; 

These sorrows flow ! 



24 WIT AND WISDOM 

My infant glory is overthrown, 

By fortune's frown ; 
Confirmed in this my wretched state 

By the decrees of fate, 
In death alone, I hope release 
From this compounded dire disease ; 
Whose cruel pangs to aggravate, 
Fortune and love conspire with fate ! 

in. 

Ah ! what will mitigate my doom ? 

The silent tomb ! 
Ah ! what retrieve departed joy ? 

Inconstancy ! 
Or say, can aught but frenzy bear 
This tempest of despair ? 
All other efforts, then, are vain, 
To cure this foul tormenting pain, 
That owns no other remedy 
Than madness, death, inconstancy. 



Friendship, thou hast with nimble flight 
Exulting gained the empyreal height, 
In heaven to dwell, while here below 
Thy semblance reigns in mimic show ; 
From thence to earth, at thy behest, 
Descends fair peace, celestial guest ! 
Beneath whose veil of shining hue 
Deceit oft lurks, concealed from view. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 25 

Leave, friendship ! leave thy heavenly seat, 

Or strip thy livery off the cheat. 

If still he wears thy borrowed smiles, 

And still unwary truth beguiles, 

Soon must this dark terrestrial ball 

Into its first confusion fall. 

When the stars are adverse, what is human 
power ? 

Who is there in the world that can boast of 
having fathomed and thoroughly penetrated the in- 
tricate and ever-changing nature of a woman ? 

Would to God I could find a place to serve as 
a private tomb for this wearisome burden of life, 
which I bear so much against my inclination ! This 
very spot will yield me what I ask, if I can trust 
the solitary appearance of these mountains. Alas ! 
how much more agreeable is the company of these 
rocks and thickets, which give me opportunities of 
complaining to Heaven, than that of faithless man ! 
since Nature hath not created one of whom I could 
reasonably expect advice in difficulty, comfort in 
affliction, or remedy in distress ! 

O memory, thou mortal enemy of my repose ! 
wherefore now recall to me the incomparable beauty 
of that adored enemy of mine ! Were it not bet- 
ter, thou cruel faculty ! to represent to my imagina- 
tion her conduct at that period— that, moved by so 



26 WIT AND WISDOM 

flagrant an injury, I may strive, if not to avenge it, 
at least to end this life of pain ? 

For no grievance can harass or drive the afflicted 
to such extremity, while life remains, as to make 
them shut their ears against that counsel which is 
given with the most humane and benevolent inten- 
tion. 

What is sudden death, to a protracted life of an- 
guish ? 

Music lulls the disordered thoughts, and elevates 
the dejected spirits. 

All women, let them be never so homely, are 
pleased to hear themselves celebrated for beauty. 

The eyes of love or of idleness are like those 
of a lynx. 

One mischance invites another, and the end of 
one misfortune is often the beginning of a worse. 

Among friends we ought not to stand upon 
trifles. 

No man can command the first emotions of his 
passions. 

Every new fault deserves a new penance. 

Where is the wonder one devil should be like 
another ? 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 27 

Gifts are good after Easter. 

A sparrow in the hand is worth more than a 
bustard on the wing. 

He that will not when he may, when he would 
he shall have nay. 

" I have heard it preached," quoth Sancho, " that \ 
God is to be loved with this kind of love, for Him- 
self alone, without our being moved to it by hope 
of reward or fear of punishment ; though, for my 
part, I am inclined to love and serve Him for what 
He is able to do for me." "The devil take thee for 
a bumpkin," said Don Quixote ; "thou say est ever 
and anon such apt things that one would almost 
think thee a scholar." " And yet, by my faith," 
quoth Sancho, " I cannot so much as read." 

Squires and knight-errants are subject to much 
hunger and ill-luck. 

A man on whom Heaven has bestowed a beau- 
tiful wife should be as cautious respecting the friends 
he introduces at home as to her female acquaintance 
abroad. 

Men may prove and use their friends, and not 
presume upon their friendship in things contrary to 
the decrees of Heaven. 

A man dishonored is worse than dead. 



28 WIT AND WISDOM 

If from equal parts we take equal parts, those 
that remain are equal. 

To attempt voluntarily that which must be pro- 
ductive of evil rather than good, is madness and folly. 
Difficult works are undertaken for the sake of 
Heaven, or of the world, or both : the first are such 
as are performed by the saints, while they endeavor 
to live the life of angels in their human frames ; 
such as are performed for love of the world are en- 
countered by those who navigate the boundless 
ocean, traverse different countries and various cli- 
mates to acquire what are called the goods of fortune. 
Those who assail hazardous enterprises for the sake 
of both God and man are brave soldiers, who no 
sooner perceive in the enemy's wall a breach made 
by a single cannon-ball, than, regardless of danger 
and full of zeal in the defence of their faith, their 
country, and their king, they rush where death in 
a thousand shapes awaits them. These are diffi- 
culties commonly attempted, and, though perilous, 
are glorious and profitable. 

When Peter saw the approach of rosy morn, 
His soul with sorrow and remorse was torn ; 
For, though from every mortal eye concealed, 
The guilt to his own bosom stood revealed : 
The candid breast will, self-accusing, own 
Each conscious fault, though to the world unknown : 
Nor will th' offender 'scape internal shame, 
Though unimpeached by justice or by fame. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 29 

Expect not, therefore, by concealment, to banish 
sorrow ; for, even though you weep not openly, tears 
of blood will flow from your heart. So wept that 
simple doctor, who, according to the poet, would 
venture to make a trial of the cup which the more 
prudent Rinaldo wisely declined doing ; and although 
this be a poetical fiction, there is a concealed moral 
in it worthy to be observed and followed. 

There is no jewel in the world so valuable as a 
chaste and virtuous woman. The honor of women 
consists in the good opinion of the world ; and since 
that of your wife is eminently good, why would you 
have it questioned ? Woman, my friend, is an im- 
perfect creature ; and, instead of laying stumbling- 
blocks in her way, we should clear the path before 
her, that she may readily attain that virtue which is 
essential in her. Naturalists inform us that the? 
ermine is a little creature with extremely white fur, 
and that when the hunters are in pursuit of it, thej 
spread with mire all the passes leading to its haunts, 
to which they then drive it, knowing that it will 
submit to be taken rather than defile itself. The 
virtuous and modest woman is an ermine, and her 
character whiter than snow ; and in order to pre- 
serve it, a very different method must be taken from 
that which is used with the ermine. 

The reputation of a woman may also be com- 
pared to a mirror of crystal, shining and bright, but 
liable to be sullied by every breath that comes near 



30 WIT AND WISDOM 

it. The virtuous woman must be treated like a 
relic — -adored, but not handled ; she should be guard- 
ed and prized, like a fine flower-garden, the beauty 
and fragrance of which the owner allows others to 
enjoy only at a distance, and through iron rails. 

I. 

Woman is formed of brittle ware ; 

Then, wherefore rashly seek to know 
What force, unbroken, she will bear, 

And- strike perhaps some fatal blow ? 
ii. 
Though easily to fragments tore, 

'Twere equally absurd and vain, 
To dash in pieces on the floor, 

What never can be joined again. 
in. 
This maxim, then, by facts assured, 

Should henceforth be espoused by all - y 
Where'er a Danae lies immured, 

The tempting shower of gold will fall. 

The devil, when he would entrap a cautious per- 
son, assumes an angel form till he carries his point, 
when the cloven foot appears. 

He who builds on impossibilities, should be de- 
nied the privilege of any other foundation. 

Hope is ever born with love. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 3 1 

In death alone I life would find, 

And health in racking pain ; 
Fair honor in a traitor's mind, 

Or freedom in a chain. 

But since I ask what ne'er can be, 

The Fates, alas ! decide, 
What they would else have granted me, 

Shall ever be denied. 

Castles should not be left without governors, nor 
armies without generals. 

The passion of love is to be conquered by flight 
alone ; it is vain to contend with a power which, 
though human, requires more than human strength 
to subdue. 

SONNET. 

In the dead silence of the peaceful night, 

When others' cares are hushed in soft repose, 
The sad account of my neglected woes 

To conscious Heaven and Chloris I recite. 

And when the sun, with his returning light, 
Forth from the east his radiant journey goes, 
With accents such as sorrow only knows, 

My griefs to tell is all my poor delight. 

And when bright Phoebus from his starry throne 
Sends rays direct upon the parched soil, 

Still in the mournful tale I persevere ; 

Returning night renews my sorrow's toil ; 



32 WIT AND WISDOM 

And though from morn to night I weep and moan, 
Nor Heaven nor Chloris my complainings hear. 

Are we to take all that enamoured poets sing, 
for truth ? 

SONNET. 
Believe me, nymph, I feel th' impending blow, 

And glory in the near approach of death ; 

For when thou see'st my corse devoid of breath, 
My constancy and truth thou sure wilt know. 
Welcome to me Oblivion's shade obscure ! 

Welcome the loss of fortune, life, and fame ! 

But thy loved features, and thy honored name, 
Deep graven on my heart, shall still endure. 
And these, as sacred relics, will I keep 

Till that sad moment when to endless night 

My long-tormented soul shall take her flight. 
Alas for him who on the darkened deep 

Floats idly, sport of the tempestuous tide, 

No port to shield him, and no star to guide ! 

He who gives freely gives twice. 

That which is lightly gained is little valued. 

For Love sometimes flies and sometimes walks 
— runs with one person, and goes leisurely with an- 
other : some he warms, and some he burns ; some 
he wounds, and others he kills : in one and the 
same instant he forms and accomplishes his projects. 
He often in the morning lays siege to a fortress 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 33 

which in the evening surrenders to him — for no force 
is able to resist him. 

The nearer the prospect of possession, the more 
eager we are for the enjoyment. 

Heaven always favors the honest purpose. 
Rank is not essential in a wife. 
True nobility consists in virtue. 

It is no derogation to rank to elevate beauty 
adorned with virtue. 

Time will discover. 

" Certainly, gentlemen, if we rightly consider it, 
those who make knight-errantry their profession 
often meet with surprising and most stupendous ad- 
ventures. For what mortal in the world, at this 
time entering within this castle, and seeing us sit 
together as we do, will imagine and believe us to be 
the same persons which in reality we are ? Who is 
there that can judge that this lady by my side is the 
great queen we all know her to be, and that I am 
that Knight of the Sorrowful Figure so universally 
made known by fame ? It is, then, no longer to be 
doubted but that this exercise and profession sur- 
passes all others that have been invented by man, 
and is so much the more honorable as it is more ex- 
posed to dangers. Let none presume to tell me 



34 WIT AND WISDOM 

that the pen is preferable to the sword. This may 
be ascertained by regarding the end and object each 
of them aims at ; for that intention is to be most 
valued which makes the noblest end its object. The 
scope and end of learning, I mean human learning 
(in this place I speak not of divinity, whose aim is 
to guide souls to Heaven, for no other can equal a 
design so infinite as that), is to give a perfection to 
distributive justice, bestowing upone very one his due, 
and to procure and cause good laws to be observed ; 
an end really generous, great, and worthy of high 
commendation, but yet not equal to that which 
knight-errantry tends to, whose object and end is 
peace, which is the greatest blessing man can wish 
for in this life. And, therefore, the first good news 
that the world received was that which the angels 
brought in the night — the beginning of our day — 
when they sang in the air, c Glory to God on high, 
peace on earth, and to men good-will.' And the 
only manner of salutation taught by our great Mas- 
ter to His friends and favorites was, that entering 
any house they should say, c Peace be to this house.' 
And at other times He said to them, c My peace I 
give to you,* c My peace I leave to you,' ( Peace be 
among you.' A jewel and legacy worthy of such a 
donor, a jewel so precious that without it there can 
be no happiness either in earth or heaven. This 
peace is the true end of war ; for arms and war are 
one and the same thing. Allowing, then, this truth, 
that the end of war is peace, and that in this it ex- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 35 

ceis the end of learning, let us now weigh the bodily 
labors the scholar undergoes against those the war- 
rior suffers, and then see which are the greatest." 

The method and language Don Quixote used in 
delivering himself were such, that none of his hear- 
ers at that time looked upon him as a madman ; but, 
on the contrary, most of them being gentlemen to 
whom the use of arms properly appertains, they gave 
him a willing attention ; and he proceeded in this 
manner : " These, then, I say, are the sufferings 
and hardships a scholar endures. First poverty (not 
that they are all poor, but to urge the w T orst that 
may be in this case) ; and having said he endures 
poverty, methinks nothing more need be urged to 
express his misery ; for he that is poor enjoys no 
happiness, but labors under this poverty in all its 
parts, at one time in hunger, at another in cold, 
another in nakedness, and sometimes in all of them 
together ; yet his poverty is not so great, but still 
he eats, though it be later than the usual hour, and 
of the scraps of the rich ; neither can the scholar 
miss of somebody's stove or fireside to sit by ; 
where, though he be not thoroughly heated, yet he 
may gather warmth, and at last sleep away the night 
under a roof. I will not touch upon other less ma- 
terial circumstances, as the want of linen, and 
scarcity of shoes, thinness and baldness of their 
clothes, and their surfeiting when good fortune 
throws a feast in their way ; this is the difficult and 
uncouth path thev tread, often stumbling and fall- 



36 WIT AND WISDOM 

ing, yet rising again and pushing on, till they attain 
the preferment they aim at ; whither being arrived, 
we have seen many of them, who, having been car- 
ried by a fortunate gale through all these quicksands, 
from a chair govern the world ; their hunger being 
changed into satiety, their cold into comfortable 
warmth, their nakedness into magnificence of ap- 
parel, and the mats they used to lie upon, into stately 
beds of costly silks and softest linen, a reward due 
to their virtue. But yet their sufferings being com- 
pared to those the soldier endures, appear much 
inferior, as I shall in the next place make out." 

Don Quixote, after a short pause, continued his 
discourse thus : " Since, in speaking of the scholar, 
we began with his poverty and its several branches, 
let us see whether the soldier be richer. We shall 
find that poverty itself is not more poor : for he de- 
pends on his wretched pay, which comes late, and 
sometimes never ; or upon what he can pillage, at 
the imminent risk of his life and conscience. Such 
often is his nakedness that his slashed buff-doublet 
serves him both for finery and shirt ; and in the 
midst of winter, on the open plain, he has nothing 
to warm him but the breath of his mouth, which, 
issuing from an empty place, must needs be cold. 
But let us wait, and see whether night will make 
amends for these inconveniences : if his bed be too 
narrow it is his own fault, for he may measure out 
as many feet of earth as he pleases, and roll himself 
thereon at pleasure without fear of rumpling the 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 37 

sheets. Suppose the moment arrived of taking 
his degree — I mean, suppose the day of battle come : 
his doctoral cap may then be of lint, to cover some 
gun-shot wound, which perhaps has gone through 
his temples, or deprived him of an arm or leg. 

" And evens uppose that Heaven in its mercy 
should preserve him alive and unhurt, he will prob- 
ably remain as poor as ever ; for he must be en- 
gaged and victorious in many battles before he can ex- 
pect high promotion ; and such good fortune happens 
only by a miracle : for you will allow, gentlemen, 
that few are the number of those that have reaped 
the reward of their services, compared with those 
who have perished in war. The dead are countless ; 
whereas those who survived to be rewarded may be 
numbered with three figures. Not so with scholars, 
who by their salaries (I will not say their perqui- 
sites) are generally handsomely provided for. Thus 
the labors of the soldier are greater, although his 
reward is less. It may be said in answer to this, 
that it is easier to reward two thousand scholars 
than thirty thousand soldiers : for scholars are re- 
warded by employments which must of course be 
given to men of their profession ; whereas the sol- 
dier can only be rewarded by the property of the 
master whom he serves ; and this defence serves to 
strengthen my argument. 

" But, waiving this point, let us consider the com- 
parative claims to pre-eminence : for the partisans 
of each can bring powerful arguments in support of 



38 WIT AND WISDOM 

their own cause. It is said in favor of letters that 
without them arms could not subsist ; for war must 
have its laws, and laws come within the province of 
the learned. But it may be alleged in reply, that 
arms are necessaiy to the maintenance of law ; by 
arms the public roads are protected, cities guarded, 
states defended, kingdoms preserved, and the seas 
cleared of corsairs and pirates. In short, without 
arms there would be no safety for cities, common- 
wealths, or kingdoms. Besides, it is just to estimate 
a pursuit in proportion to the cost of its attainment. 
Now it is true that eminence in learning is pur- 
chased by time, watching, hunger, nakedness, ver- 
tigo, indigestion, and many other inconveniences 
already mentioned : but a man who rises gradually 
to be a good soldier endures all these, and far more. 
What is the hunger and poverty which menace the 
man of letters compared to the situation of the sol- 
dier, who, besieged in some fortress, and placed as 
sentinel in some ravelin or cavalier, perceives that 
the enemy is mining toward the place where he 
stands, and yet he must on no account stir from his 
post or shun the imminent danger that threatens 
him ? All that he can do in such a case is to give 
notice to his officer of what passes, that he may en- 
deavor to counteract it ; in the mean time he must 
stand his ground, in momentary expectation of 
being mounted to the clouds without wings, and 
then dashed headlong to the earth. And if this be 
thought but a trifling danger, let us see whether it be 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 39 

equalled or exceeded by the encounter of two galleys, 
prow to prow, in the midst of the white sea, locked 
and grappled together, so that there is no more 
room left for the soldier than the two-foot plank at 
the break-head ; and though he sees as many threat- 
ening ministers of death before him as there are 
pieces of artillery pointed at him from the opposite 
side, not the length of a lance from his body ; though 
he knows that the first slip of his foot sends him to 
the bottom of the sea - y yet, with an undaunted 
heart, inspired by honor, he exposes himself as a 
mark to all their fire, and endeavors by that narrow 
pass to force his w T ay into the enemy's vessel ! And, 
what is most worthy of admiration, no sooner is one 
fallen, never to rise again in this world, than an- 
other takes his place ; and if he also fall into the 
sea, which lies in wait to devour him, another and 
another succeeds without intermission ! In all the 
extremities of war there is no example of courage 
and intrepidity to exceed this. Happy those ages 
which knew not the dreadful fury of artillery ! — 
those instruments of hell (w T here, I verily believe, 
the inventor is now receiving the reward of his dia- 
bolical ingenuity), by means of which the cowardly 
and the base can deprive the bravest soldier of life. 
While a gallant spirit animated with heroic ardor is 
pressing to glory, comes a chance ball, sent by one 
who perhaps fled in alarm at the flash of his own 
accursed weapon, and in an instant cuts short the 
life of him who deserved to live for as;es ! When I 



40 WIT AND WISDOM 

consider this, I could almost repent having under- 
taken this profession of knight-errantry in so detest- 
able an age ; for though no danger can daunt me, 
still it gives me some concern to think that powder 
and lead may suddenly cut short my career of glory. 
But Heaven's will be done ! I have this satisfac- 
tion, that I shall acquire the greater fame if I suc- 
ceed, inasmuch as the perils by which I am beset 
are greater than those to which the knights-errant 
of past ages were exposed." 

The army is a school in which the miser be- 
comes generous, and the generous prodigal. 

A covetous soldier is a monster which is rarely 
seen. 

Liberality may be carried too far in those who 
have children to inherit from them. 

We have a saying in Spain, which, I believe, is 
very true, as indeed all proverbs are, because they 
are short sentences dictated by long and sage expe- 
rience : that which I mean, contains no more than 
these words : " The church, the court, or the sea ; " 
as if it more fully expressed the following advice, 
He that would make his fortune, ought either to 
dedicate his time to the church, go to sea as a mer- 
chant, or attach himself to the court : for it is com- 
monly observed, that " the king's crumb is worth 
the baron's batch." * 

* The king's morsel is better than the lord's bounty. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 41 

Though we love the treason, we abhor the traitor. 

What transport in life can equal that which a 
man feels on the restoration of his liberty ? 

SONNET UPON THE GOLETA. 

O happy souls, by death at length set free 
From the dark prison of mortality, 
By glorious deeds, whose memory never dies — 
From earth's dim spot exalted to the skies ! 
What fury stood in every eye confessed ! 
What generous ardor fired each manly breast, 
While slaughtered heaps distained the sandy shore, 
And the tinged ocean blushed with hostile gore ! 
O'erpowered by numbers, gloriously ye fell : 
Death only could such matchless courage quell ; 
Whilst dying thus ye triumphed o'er your foes — - 
Its fame the world, its glory heaven, bestows ! 

SONNET ON THE FORT. 
I. 

Lo ! from yon ruins on the desert plain, 

Oppressed with numbers, in th' unequal fight, 

Three thousand souls of Christian warriors slain, 
To happier regions winged their joyous flight. 

11. 
Yet, not before, in vain, they had essayed 

The force and vigor of their dauntless arms : 
Till wearied and reduced, though undismayed, 

They welcomed death encompassed with alarms. 



42 WIT AND WISDOM 

III. 

On Afric's coast, as records tell, 

The scene of past and present woes, 

More valiant bodies never fell, 
More spotless spirits never rose. 

How seldom promises made in slavery are re- 
membered after a release from bondage ! 

Good fortune seldom comes pure and single un- 
attended by some troublesome or unexpected cir- 
cumstance. 



Tossed in a sea of doubts and fears, 
Love's hapless mariner, I sail, 

Where no inviting port appears, 

To screen me from the stormy gale. 

ii. 

At distance viewed, a cheering star 

Conducts me through the swelling tide : 

A brighter luminary, far, 

Than Palinurus e'er descried. 

in. 

My soul attracted by its blaze, 

Still follows where it points the way, 

And while attentively I gaze, 
Considers not how far I stray. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 43 

IV. 

But female pride, reserved and shy, 
Like clouds that deepen on the day, 

Oft shroud it from my longing eye, 
When most I need the genial ray. 



O lovely star, so pure and bright ! 

Whose splendor feeds my vital fire, 
The moment thou deny'st thy light, 

Thy lost adorer will expire ! 

SONG. 

Unconquered hope, thou bane of fear, 

And last deserter of the brave, 
Thou soothing ease of mortal care, 

Thou traveller beyond the grave ; 
Thou soul of patience, airy food, 
Bold warrant of a distant good, 

Reviving cordial, kind decoy ; 
Though fortune frowns and friends depart, 

Though Silvia flies me, flattering joy, 
Nor thou, nor love, shall leave my doting heart. 

No slave, to lazy ease resigned, 

E'er triumphed over noble foes ; 
The monarch fortune most is kind 

To him who bravely dares oppose. 
They say, Love rates his blessing high, 
But who would prize an easy joy ? 



44 WI T AND WISDOM 

My scornful fair then I'll pursue, 
Though the coy beauty still denies; 

I grovel now on earth, 'tis true, 
But, raised by her, the humble slave may rise. 

Might overcomes. 

Him to whom God giveth, may St. Peter bless. 

It is a common proverb that diligence is the 
mother of success, and in many important causes 
experience hath shown that the assiduity of the so- 
licitor hath brought a very doubtful suit to a very 
fortunate issue ; but the truth of this maxim is no- 
where more evinced than in war, where activity and 
dispatch anticipate the designs of the enemy, and 
obtain the victory before he has time to put himself 
in a posture of defence. 

The common adage that delays are dangerous 
acts as spurs upon the resolution. 

There are more tricks in the town than are 
dreamt of. 

Virtue is so powerful that of herself she will, 
in spite of all the necromancy possessed by the first 
inventor Zoroaster, come off conqueror in every 
severe trial, and shine refulgent in the world, as the 
sun shines in the heavens. 

Virtue is always more persecuted by the wicked 
than beloved by the righteous. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 45 

Just are virtue's fears where envy domineers ! 

Bounty will not stay where niggards bear the 
sway. 

Fortune turns faster than a mill-wheel, and 
those who were yesterday at top, may find them- 
selves at bottom to-day. 

Every one is the son of his own works. 

The mind receives pleasure from the beauty and 
consistency of what is presented to the imagination, 
not from that which is incongruous and unnatural. 

Fiction is always the better the nearer it resem- 
bles truth, and agreeable in proportion to the prob- 
ability it bears and the doubtful credit which it in- 
spires. Wherefore, all such fables ought to be 
suited to the understanding; of those who read them, 
and written so, as that by softening impossibilities, 
smoothing what is rough, and keeping the mind in 
suspense, they may surprise, agreeably perplex, and 
entertain, creating equal admiration and delight ; 
and these never can be excited by authors who for- 
sake probability and imitation, in which the perfec- 
tion of writing; consists. 



*& 



Epics may be written in prose as well as verse. 

To assert that there never was an Amadis in the 
world, nor any other of the knights-adventurers of 



4-6 WIT AND WISDOM 

whom so many records remain, is to say that the 
sun does not enlighten, the frost produce cold, nor 
the earth yield sustenance. 

The approbation of the judicious few should far 
outweigh the censure of the ignorant. 

An author had better be applauded by the few 
that are wise than laughed at by the many that are 
foolish. 

Our modern plays, not only those which are 
formed upon fiction, but likewise such as are founded 
on the truth of history, are all, or the greatest part, 
universally known to be monstrous productions, 
without either head or tail, and yet received with 
pleasure by the multitude, who approve and esteem 
them as excellent performances, though they are 
far from deserving that title ; and if the authors 
who compose, and the actors who represent them, 
affirm that this and no other method is to be prac- 
tised, because the multitude must be pleased -, that 
those which bear the marks of contrivance, and 
produce a fable digested according to the rules of 
art, serve only for entertainment to four or five peo- 
ple of taste, who discern the beauties of the plan, 
which utterly escape the rest of the audience ; and 
that it is better for them to gain a comfortable live- 
lihood by the many, than starve upon reputation 
with the few; at this rate, said I, if I should fin- 
ish my book, after having scorched every hair in my 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 47 

whiskers in poring over it, to preserve those rules 
and precepts already mentioned, I might fare at last 
like the sagacious botcher, who sewed for nothing 
and found his customers in thread. 

It is not a sufficient excuse to say that the object 
in permitting theatrical exhibitions being chiefly to 
provide innocent recreation for the people, it is un- 
necessary to limit and restrain the dramatic author 
within strict rules of composition ; for I affirm that 
the same object is, beyond all comparison, more ef- 
fectually attained by legitimate works. The spec- 
tator of a good drama is amused, admonished, and 
improved, by what is diverting, affecting, and moral 
in the representation ; he is cautioned against deceit, 
corrected by example, incensed against vice, stimu- 
lated to the love of virtue. 

, Comedy, according to Tully, ought to be the 
mirror of life, the exemplar of manners, and picture 
of truth ; whereas those that are represented in this 
age are mirrors of absurdity, exemplars of folly, and 
pictures of lewdness ; for sure nothing can be more 
absurd in a dramatic performance, than to see the 
person, who, in the first scene of the first act, was 
produced a child in swaddling-clothes, appear a full- 
grown man with a beard in the second ; or to repre- 
sent an old man active and valiant, a young soldier 
cowardly, a footman eloquent, a page a counsellor, 
a king a porter, and a princess a scullion. Then 
what shall we say concerning their management of 



48 WIT AND WISDOM 

the time and place in which the actions have, or 
may be supposed to have happened ? I have seen 
a comedy, the first act of which was laid in Europe, 
the second in Asia, and the third was finished in 
Africa ; nay, had there been a fourth, the scene 
would have shifted to America, so that the fable 
would have travelled through all the four divisions 
of the globe. If imitation be the chief aim of 
comedy, how can any ordinary understanding be 
satisfied with seeing an action that passed in the 
time of King Pepin and Charlemagne, ascribed to 
the Emperor Heraclius, who, being the principal 
personage, is represented, like Godfrey of Boulogne, 
carrying the cross into Jerusalem, and making him- 
self master of the holy sepulchre, an infinite num- 
ber of years having passed between the one and the 
other ? Or, when a comedy is founded upon fiction, 
to see scraps of real history introduced, and facts 
misrepresented both with regard to persons and 
times, not with any ingenuity of contrivance, but 
with the most manifest and inexcusable errors and 
stupidity ; and what is worst of all, there is a set of 
ignorant pretenders who call this the perfection of 
writing, and that every attempt to succeed by a con- 
trary method is no other than a wild-goose chase. 

The bow cannot remain always bent, and re- 
laxation, both of body and mind, is indispensable to 
all. 

Can you deny what is in everybody's mouth. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 49 

when a person is in the dumps ? It is always then 
said, " I know not what such a one ails — he neither 
eats, nor drinks, nor sleeps, nor answers to the pur- 
pose, like other men — surely he is enchanted." 
Wherefore, it is clear that such, and such only, are 
enchanted who neither eat, nor drink, nor sleep, and 
not they who eat and drink when they can get it, 
and answer properly to all that is asked them. 

" The poor man is unable to exercise the virtue 
of liberality, and the gratitude which consists only 
in inclination is a dead thing, even as faith without 
works is dead. I shall, therefore, rejoice when for- 
tune presents me with an opportunity of exalting 
myself, that I may show my heart in conferring 
benefits on my friends, especially on poor Sancho 
Panza here, my squire, who is one of the best men 
in the world ; and I would fain bestow on him an 
earldom, as I have long since promised ; although I 
am somewhat in doubt of his ability in the govern- 
ment of his estate." 

Sancho, overhearing his master's last words, 
said, " Take you the trouble, Signor Don Quixote, 
to procure me that same earldom, which your wor- 
ship has so often promised, and I have been so long 
waiting for, and you shall see that I shall not want 
ability to govern it. But even if I should, there 
are people, I have heard say, who farm these lord- 
ships ; and, paying the owners so much a year, take 
upon themselves the government of the whole, 



50 WIT AND WISDOM 

while his lordship lolls at his ease, enjoying his 
estate, without concerning himself any further about 
it. Just so will I do, and give myself no more 
trouble than needs must, but enjoy myself like any 
duke, and let the world rub." " This, brother 
Sancho," said the canon, " may be done, as far as 
regards the management of ycur revenue ; but the 
administration of justice must be attended to by the 
lord himself, and requires capacity, judgment, and, 
above all, an upright intention, without which noth- 
ing prospers ; for Heaven assists the good intent of 
the simple, and disappoints the evil designs of the 
cunning." " I do not understand these philoso- 
phies," answered Sancho ; " all that I know is, that 
I wish I may as surely have the earldom as I should 
know how to govern it ; for I have as large a soul 
as another, and as large a body as the best of them ; 
and I should be as much king of my own dominion 
as any other king ; and, being so, I would do what 
I pleased ; and, doing what I pleased, I should have 
my will ; and, having my will, I should be con- 
tented ; and, being content, there is no more to be 
desired ; and when there is no more to desire, there 
is an end of it, and let the estate come ; so Heaven 
be with ye, and let us see it, as one blind man said 
to another." " These are no bad philosophies, as 
you say, Sancho," quoth the canon ; "nevertheless, 
there is a great deal more to be said upon the sub- 
ject of earldoms." " That may be," observed 
Don Quixote ; " but I am guided by the numerous 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 51 

examples offered on this subject by knights of my 
own profession ; who, in compensation for the 
loyal and signal services they had received from 
their squires, conferred upon them extraordinary 
favors, making them absolute lords of cities and 
islands ; indeed, there was one whose services were 
so great, that he had the presumption to accept of 
a kingdom. But why should I say more, w T hen 
before me is the bright example of the great Ama- 
dis de Gaul, w T ho made his squire knight of the 
Firm Island ? Surely I may, therefore, without 
scruple of conscience, make an earl of Sancho 
Panza, who is one of the best squires that ever 
served knight-errant." 

Fame hath preserved some memoirs in La Man- 
cha, by which it appears that Don Quixote, when 
he set out the third time, went to Saragossa, where 
he was present at a most celebrated tournament, in 
which many things happened to him worthy of his 
genius and valor ; but with regard to his death and 
burial he could obtain no information, and must 
have remained entirely ignorant of that event, had 
he not luckily met with an old physician, who had 
in his custody a leaden box, which he said he found 
under the foundation of an ancient hermitage that 
was repairing. This box contained some skins of 
parchment, on which were written in Gothic char- 
acters, and Castilian verse, many of our knight's 
exploits, with a description of Dulcinea's beauty, 
Rozinante's figure, Sancho's fidelity, and Don 



52 WIT AND WISDOM 

Quixote's own funeral, celebrated by divers epi- 
taphs, and panegyrics on his life and morals. All 
that could be read and fairly copied, are those which 
are here inserted by the faithful author of this new 
and surprising history, who, in recompense for the 
immense trouble he has undergone in his inquiries, 
and in examining the archives of La Mancha, that 
he might publish it with more certainty, desires the 
reader to favor him with the same credit which in- 
telligent persons give to those books of chivalry 
that pass so currently in the world ; and herewith 
he will rest fully satisfied ; and perhaps be animated 
to search after and find out other histories, if not 
as authentic, at least as full of invention and enter- 
tainment. 

The verses which were written in the first skin 
of parchment found in the leaden box were these : 

The Academicians of Argamasilla, a town of La Man- 
cha, on the Life and Death of the valiant Don 
Quixote de la Mancha, hoc scripserunt, 

MONICONGO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE SEPULTURE OF 
DON QUIXOTE. 

EPITAPH. 

Mancha's thunderbolt of war, 

The sharpest wit and loftiest muse, 

The arm which from Gaeta far 
To Catai did its force diffuse ; 

He who, through love and valor's fire, 
Outstript great Amadis's fame, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 53 

Bid warlike Galaor retire, 
And silenced Belianis' name : 

He who, with helmet, sword, and shield, 
On Rozinante, steed well known, 

Adventures fought in many a field, 
Lies underneath this frozen stone. 

PANIAGUADO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, IN PRAISE OF DULCINEA 
DEL TOBOSO. 

SONNET. 

She whom you see the plump and lusty dame, 
With high erected chest and vigorous mien, 

Was erst th' enamored knight Don Quixote's flame, 
The fair Dulcinea, of Toboso, queen. 

For her, armed cap-a-pie with sword and shield, 
He trod the sable mountain o'er and o'er ; 

For her he traversed Montiel's well-known field, 
And in her service toils unnumbered bore. 

Hard fate ! that death should crop so fine a flower ! 

And love o'er such a knight exert his tyrant power ! 

CAPRICHOSO, A MOST INGENIOUS ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, IN 
PRAISE OF DON QUIXOTE'S HORSE ROZINANTE. 

SONNET. 

On the aspiring adamantine trunk 
Of a huge tree, whose root, with slaughter drunk, 
Sends forth a scent of war, La Mancha's knight, 
Frantic with valor, and returned from fight, 
His bloody standard trembling in the air, 
Hangs up his glittering armor beaming- far, 



54 WIT AND WISDOM 

With that fine-tempered steel whose edge over- 
throws, 
Hacks, hews, confounds, and routs opposing foes. 
Unheard-of prowess ! and unheard-of verse ! 
But art new strains invents, new glories to rehearse. 

If Amadis to Grecia gives renown, 
Much more her chief does fierce Bellona crown. 
Prizing La Mancha more than Gaul or Greece, 
As Quixote triumphs over Amadis. 
Oblivion ne'er shall shroud his glorious name, 
Whose very horse stands up to challenge fame ! 
Illustrious Rozinante, wondrous steed ! 
Not with more generous pride or mettled speed, 
His rider erst Rinaldo's Bayard bore, 
Or his mad lord, Orlando's Brilladore. 

EURLADOR, THE LITTLE ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON SANCHO 
PANZA. 

SONNET. 

See Sancho Panza, view him well, 
And let this verse his praises tell. 
His body was but small, 'tis true, 
Yet had a soul as large as two. 
No guile he knew, like some before him, 
But simple as his mother bore him, 
This gentle squire on gentle ass, 
Went gentle Rozinante's pace, 
Following his lord from place to place. 
To be an earl he did aspire, 
And reason good for such desire, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 55 

But worth, in these ungrateful times, 
To envied honor seldom climbs. 
Vain mortals ! give your wishes o'er, 
And trust the flatterer Hope no more, 
Whose promises, whate'er they seem, 
End in a shadow or a dream. 

CACHIDIABLO, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE SEPULTURE OF 
DON QUIXOTE. 

EPITAPH. 

Here lies an evil-errant knight, 

Weil bruised in many a fray, 
Whose courser, Rozinante hight, 

Long bore him many a way. 
Close by his loving master's side 

Lies booby Sancho Panza, 
A trusty squire of courage tried, 

And true as ever man saw. 

TIQLTTOC, ACADEMICIAN OF ARGAMASILLA, ON THE SEPULTURE Or 
DULCINEA DEL TOEOSO. 

Here lies Dulcinea, once so plump, 

But now her fat all melts away \ 
For Death, with an inhuman thump, 

Has turned her into dust and clay. 
Of a true breed she surely sprung, 

And wanted not external grace; 
Don Quixote's heart with love she stung, 

And shone the glory of her race. 

These were all the verses which could be read ; 



56 WIT AND WISDOM 

the rest being worm-eaten, were delivered to an 
academician, that he might attempt to unravel their 
meaning by conjecture. This task, we understand, 
he has performed with infinite pains and study, in- 
tending to publish them to the world, in expectation 
of the third sally of Don Quixote. 

" Forse altri cantera con miglior plettro." 

With God nothing is impossible. 

Despair added to misfortune impairs the health 
and hastens death. 

Mountains produce learned men, and philoso- 
phers are to be found within the shepherd's cot. 

No padlocks, bolts, or bars can secure a maiden 
so well as her own reserve. 

Honey is not for the mouth of an ass. 

He must be blind, indeed, who cannot see through 
a sieve. 

Comparisons, whether as to sense, courage, 
beauty, or rank, are always offensive. 

Scruples of conscience afford no peace. 

You have reckoned without your host. 

When the head aches, all the members ache 
also. 

When virtue exists in an eminent degree, it is 
always persecuted. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 57 

To be represented otherwise than with approba- 
tion is w T orse than the worst of deaths. 

There are as many different opinions as there 
are different tastes. 

Pedlr cotufas en el golfo, signifies to look for 
truffles in the sea, a proverb applicable to those who 
are too sanguine in their expectations and unreason- 
able in their desires. 

" There is no necessity for recording actions 
which are prejudicial to the hero, without being es- 
sential to the history. It is not to be supposed that 
/Eneas was in all his actions so pure as Virgil rep- 
resents him, nor Ulysses so uniformly prudent as he 
is described by Homer." " True," replied Samp- 
son \ " but it is one thing to write as a poet, and 
another to write as an historian. The poet may 
say or sing, not as things were, but as they ought 
to have been ; but the historian must pen them not 
as they ought to have been, but as they really were, 
without adding to or diminishing aught from the 
truth." 

There is no human history that does not contain 
reverses of fortune. 

While thou art advancing in years, age will 
bring experience. 

Let every man take care how he speaks or 



5^ WIT AND WISDOM 

writes of honest people, and not set down at a ven- 
ture the first thing that comes uppermost. 

With hay or with straw it is all the same. 

Much knowledge and a mature understanding 
are requisite for an historian. 

Wit and humor belong to genius alone. 

The wittiest person in the comedy is he that 
plays the fool. 

History is a sacred subject, because the. soul of 
it is truth ; and where truth is, there the divinity 
will reside ; yet there are some who compose and 
cast off books as if they were tossing up a dish of 
pancakes. 

There is no book so bad but something good 
may be found in it. 

Printed works may be read leisurely, their de- 
fects easily seen, so they are scrutinized more or 
less strictly in proportion to the celebrity of the 
author. 

" Men of great talents, whether poets or histo- 
rians, seldom escape the attacks of those who, with- 
out ever favoring the world with any production of 
their own, take delight in criticising the works of 
others." " Nor can we wonder at that," said Don 
Quixote, u when we observe the same practice 
among divines, who, though dull enough in the pul- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 59 

pit themselves, are wonderfully sharp-sighted in dis- 
covering the defects of other preachers." " True, 
indeed, Signor Don Quixote," said Carrasco ; u I 
wish critics would be less fastidious, nor dwell so 
much upon the motes which may be discerned even 
in the brightest works; for, though aliquando bonus 
dormitat Homerus, they ought to consider how much 
he was awake to produce a work with so much light 
and so little shade ; nay, perhaps even his seeming 
blemishes are like moles, which are sometimes 
thought to be rather an improvement to beauty. 
But it cannot be denied that whoever publishes a 
book to the world, exposes himself to imminent 
peril, since, of all things, nothing is more impossi- 
ble than to satisfy everybody," 

Me pondra en la Espina de Santa Lucia; u <?., 
Will put me on St. Lucia's thorn \ applicable to any 
uneasy situation. 

Let every man lay his hand upon his heart, and 
not take white for black, nor black for white \ for 
we are all as God made us, and oftentimes a great 
deal worse. 

Works done in haste are never finished with 
perfection. 

There must be a time to attack and a time to 
retreat, and it must not be always, " St. Jago ! " 
and, " Charge, Spain ! " 



60 WIT AND WISDOM 

True valor lies in the middle, between the ex- 
tremes of cowardice and rashness. 

When the heifer is offered, be ready with the 
rope. 

When good fortune knocks, make haste to bid 
her welcome. 

Honors often change manners. 

Sancho went home in such high spirits that his 
wife observed his gayety a bow-shot off, insomuch 
that she could not help saying, " What makes you 
look so blithe, friend Sancho ? " To which he an- 
swered : " Would to Heaven, dear wife, I were not 
so well pleased as I seem to be ! " "I know not 
what you mean, husband," replied she, " by saying 
you wish you were not so much pleased ; now, silly 
as I am, I cannot guess how any one can desire not 
to be pleased." " Look you, Teresa," answered 
Sancho, " I am thus merry because I am about to 
return to the service of my master Don Quixote, 
who is going again in search after adventures, and I 
am to accompany him ; for so my fate wills it. Be- 
sides, I am merry with the hopes of finding another 
hundred crowns like those we have spent ; though 
it grieves me to part from you and my children ; 
and if Heaven would be pleased to give me bread, 
dryshod and at home, without dragging me over 
crags and cross-paths, it is plain that my joy would 
be better grounded, since it is now mingled with 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 6 1 

sorrow for leaving you ; so that I was right in say- 
ing that I should be glad if it pleased Heaven I 
were not so well pleased." " Look you, Sancho," 
replied Teresa, " ever since you have been a knight- 
errant man, you talk in such a roundabout manner 
that nobody can understand you." " It is enough, 
wife," said Sancho, "that God understands me. 
For He is the understander of all things ; and so 
much for that. And do you hear, wife, it behooves 
you to take special care of Dapple for these three 
or four days to come, that he may be in a condition 
to bear arms ; so double his allowance, and get the 
pack-saddle in order, and the rest of his tackling ; 
for we are not going to a wedding, but to roam 
about the world, and to give and take with giants, 
fiery dragons, and goblins, and to hear hissings, 
roarings, bellowings, and bleatings, all which would 
be but flowers of lavender, if we had not to do 
with Yano-ueses and enchanted Moors." " I be- 
lieve, indeed, husband," replied Teresa, " that your 
squires-errant do not eat their bread for nothing, 
and therefore I shall not fail to beseech Heaven to 
deliver you speedily from so much evil hap." U I 
tell you, w T ife," answered Sancho, " that did I not 
expect, ere long, to see myself governor of an 
island, I vow I should drop down dead upon the 
spot." " Not so, good husband," quoth Teresa ; 
" let the hen live, though it be with the pip. Do 
you live, and the devil take all the governments in 
the world ! Without a government you came into 



62 WIT AND WISDOM 

the world, without a government you have lived till 
now, and without it you can be carried to your 
grave, whenever it shall please God. How many 
folks are there in the world that have no govern- 
ment ! and yet they live, and are reckoned among 
the people. The best sauce in the world is hunger, 
and as that is never wanting to the poor, they al- 
ways eat with a relish. But if perchance, Sancho, 
you should get a government, do not forget me and 
your children. Consider that your son Sancho is 
just fifteen years old, and it is fit he should go to 
school, if his uncle the abbot means to breed him 
up to the church. Consider, also, that Mary San- 
cha, your daughter, will not break her heart if we 
marry her; for I am mistaken if she has not as 
much mind to a husband as you have to a govern- 
ment ; and verily say I, better a daughter but hum- 
bly married than highly kept." " In good faith, 
dear wife," said Sancho, " if Heaven be so good to 
me that I get any thing like a government, I will 
match Mary Sancha so highly that there will be no 
coming near her without calling her your ladyship." 
u Not so, Sancho," answered Teresa ; " the best 
way is to marry her to her equal \ for if you lift her 
from clouted shoes to high heels, and, instead of 
her russet coat of fourteenpenny stuff, give her a 
farthingale and petticoats of silk; and instead of 
plain Molly and thou, she be called madam and 
your ladyship, the girl will not know where she is, 
and will fall into a thousand mistakes at every step, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 63 

showing her home-spun country stuff." " Peace, 
fool ! " quoth Sancho, u she has only to practise two 
or three years, and the gravity will set upon her as 
if it were made for her -, and if not, w T hat matters 
it ? Let her be a lady, and come of it what will." 
" Measure yourself by your condition, Sancho," 
answered Teresa ; " and do not seek to raise your- 
self higher, but remember the proverb, c Wipe your 
neighbor's son's nose and take him into your house.' 
It would be a pretty business, truly, to marry our 
Mary to some great count or knight, w T ho, when 
the fancy takes him, would look upon her as some 
strange thing, and be calling her country-wench, 
clod-breaker's brat, and I know not what else. 
No, not while I live, husband ; I have not brought 
up my child to be so used ; do you provide money, 
Sancho, and leave the matching of her to my care ; 
for there is Lope Tocho, John Tocho's son, a 
lusty, hale young man, whom we know, and I am 
sure he has a sneaking kindness for the girl ; to him 
she will be very well married, considering he is our 
equal, and will be always under our eye \ and we 
shall be all as one, parents and children, grandsons 
and sons-in-law, and so the peace and blessing of 
Heaven will be among us all \ and do not you be 
for marrying her at your courts and great palaces, 
where they will neither understand her, nor she 
understand herself." " Hark you, beast, and wife 
for Barabbas," replied Sancho, "why would you 
now, without rhyme or reason, hinder me from 



64 WIT AND WISDOM 

marrying my daughter with one who may bring me 
grandchildren that may be styled your lordships ? 
Look you, Teresa, I have always heard my betters 
say, c He that will not when he may, when he will 
he shall have nay ; ' and it would be wrong, now 
that fortune is knocking at our door, not to open it 
and bid her welcome. c Let us spread our sail to 
the favorable gale, now that it blows.' . . . Can't 
you perceive, animal, with half an eye," proceeded 
Sancho, " that I shall act wisely, in devoting this 
body of mine to some beneficial government that 
will lift us out of the dirt, and enable me to match 
Mary Sancha according to my own good pleasure ; 
then wilt thou hear thyself called Donna Teresa 
Panza, and find thyself seated at church upon car- 
pets, cushions, and tapestry, in despite and defiance 
of all the small gentry in the parish ; and not be 
always in the same moping circumstances, without 
increase or diminution, like a picture in the hang- 
ings ; but no more of this ; Sanchica shall be a 
countess, though thou shouldst cry thy heart out." 
" Look before you leap, husband," answered Te- 
resa y " after all, I wish to God this quality of my 
daughter may not be the cause of her perdition ; 
take your own way, and make her duchess or prin- 
cess, or what you please ; but I'll assure you it shall 
never be with my consent or good-will ; I was al- 
ways a lover of equality, my dear, and can't bear 
to see people hold their heads high without reason. 
Teresa was I christened, a bare and simple name, 



OF DON QUIXOTE, 65 

without the addition, garniture, and embroidery of 
Don or Donna ; my father's name is Cascajo, and 
mine, as being your spouse, Teresa Panza, though 
by rights I should be called Teresa Cascajo ; but 
as the king minds, the law binds ; and with that 
name am I contented, though it be not burdened 
with a Don, which weighs so heavy, that I should 
not be able to bear it. Neither will I put it in 
the power of those who see me dressed like a count- 
ess or governor's lady, to say, c Mind Mrs. Pork- 
feeder, how proud she looks ! it was but yesterday 
she toiled hard at the distaff, and went to mass with 
the tail of her gown about her head, instead of a 
veil ; but now, forsooth, she has got her fine far- 
thingales and jewels, and holds up her head as if 
we did not know her.' If God preserve me in my 
seven or five senses, or as many as they be, I shall 
never bring myself into such a quandary. As for 
your part, spouse, you may go to your governments 
and islands, and be as proud as a peacock ; but as 
for my daughter and me, by the life of my father ! 
we will not stir one step from the village ; for, the 
wife that deserves a good name, stays at home as if 
she were lame ; and the maid must be still adoing, 
that hopes to see the men come a-wooing." 

Pie that covers, discovers. 

The poor man is scarcely looked at, while every 
eye is turned upon the rich : and if the poor man 
grows rich and great, then I warrant you there is 



66 WIT AND WISDOM 

work enough for your grumblers and backbiters, 
who swarm everywhere like bees. 

All object present to the view, exist, and are 
impressed upon the imagination, with much greater 
energy and force, than those which we only re- 
member to have seen. 

When we see any person finely dressed, and 
set off with rich apparel and with a train of ser- 
vants, we are moved to show him respect ; for, 
though we cannot but remember certain scurvy 
matters either of poverty or parentage, that for- 
merly belonged to him, but which being long gone 
by are almost forgotten, we only think of what we 
see before our eyes. And if, as the preacher said, 
the person so raised by good luck, from nothing, 
as it were, to the tip-top of prosperity, be well-be- 
haved, generous, and civil, and gives himself no 
ridiculous airs, pretending to vie with the old no- 
bility, take my word for it, Teresa, nobody will 
twit him with what he was, but will respect him 
for what he is, except, indeed, the envious, who 
hate every man's good luck. 

People are always ready enough to lend their 
money to governors. 

Clothe the boy so that he may look not like 
what he is, but what he may be. 

To this burden women are born : they must 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 6j 

obey their husbands if they are ever such block- 
heads. 

He that's coy when fortune's kind, may after 
seek but never find. 

All knights cannot be courtiers, neither can all 
courtiers be knights. 

The courtier knight travels only on a map, 
without fatigue or expense ; he neither suffers heat 
nor cold, hunger nor thirst. While the true knio-ht- 
errant explores every quarter of the habitable world, 
and is by night and day on foot or on horseback, 
exposed to all the vicissitudes of the weather. 

All are not affable and well-bred ; on the con- 
trary, some there are extremely brutal and impolite. 
All those who call themselves knights, are not en- 
titled to that distinction ; some being of pure gold, 
and others of baser metal, notwithstanding the de- 
nomination they assume. But these last cannot 
stand the touchstone of truth ; there are mean ple- 
beians, who sweat and struggle to maintain the ap- 
pearance of gentlemen ; and, on the other hand, 
there are gentlemen of rank who seem industrious 
to appear mean and degenerate ; the one sort raise 
themselves either by ambition or virtue, while the 
other abase themselves by viciousness or sloth ; so 
that we must avail ourselves of our understanding 
and discernment in distinguishing those persons, 
who, though they bear the same appellation, are vet 

A. 



68 WIT AND WISDOM 

so different in point of character. All the genealo- 
gies in the world may be reduced to four kinds* 
The first are those families who from a low begin- 
ning have raised and extended themselves, until 
they have reached the highest pinnacle of human 
greatness ; the second are those of high extraction, 
who have preserved their original dignity ; the third 
sort are those who, from a great foundation, have 
gradually dwindled, until, like a pyramid, they ter- 
minate in a small point. The last, which are the 
most numerous class, are those who have begun 
and continued low, and who must end the same. 

Genealogies are involved in endless confusion, 
and those only are illustrious and great who are 
distinguished by their virtue and liberality, as well 
as their riches; for the great man who is vicious is 
only a great sinner ; and the rich man who wants 
liberality is but a miserly pauper. 

The gratification which wealth can bestow is 
not in mere possession, nor in lavishing it with 
prodigality, but in the wise application of it. 

The poor knight can only manifest his rank by 
his virtues and general conduct. He must be well- 
bred, courteous, kind, and obliging ; not proud, nor 
arrogant, no murmurer ; above all, he must be 
charitable, and by two maravedis given cheerfully 
to the poor he shall display as much generosity as 
the rich man who bestows large alms by sound of 
bell. Of such a man no one would doubt his hon- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 69 

orable descent, and general applause will be the sure 
reward of his virtue. 

There are two roads by which men may attain 
riches and honor : the one by letters, the other by 
arms. 

The path of virtue is narrow, that of vice is 
spacious and broad, as the great Castilian poet ex- 
presses it : 

By these rough paths of toil and pain, 
The immortal seats of bliss we gain, 
Denied to those who heedless stray 
In tempting pleasure's flowery way. 

Fast bind, fast find. 

He who shuffles is not he who cuts. 

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. 

Though there is little in a woman's advice, yet 
he that won't take it is not over-wise. 

We are all mortal ; here to-day and gone to- 
morrow. 

The lamb goes to the spit as soon as the sheep. 

No man in this world can promise himself more 
hours of life than God is pleased to grant him ; be- 
cause death is deaf, and when he knocks at the 
door of life is always in a hurry, and will not be 
detained either by fair means or force, by sceptres 



7° WIT AND WISDOM . 

or mitres, as the report goes, and as we have often 
heard it declared from the pulpit. 

The hen sits, if it be but upon one egg. 

Many littles make a mickle, and he that is get- 
ting aught is losing naught. 

While there are peas in the dove-cote it shall 
never want pigeons. 

A good reversion is better than bad possession, 
and a good claim better than bad pay. 

The bread eaten, the company broke up. 

A man must be a man, and a woman a woman. 

Nothing inspires a knight-errant with so much 
valor as the favor of his mistress. 

O envy ! thou root of infinite mischief, and 
canker-worm of virtue ! The commission of all 
other vices, Sancho, is attended with some sort of 
delight ; but envy produces nothing in the heart 
that harbors it but rage, rancor, and disgust. 

The love of fame is one of the most active prin- 
ciples in the human breast. 

We cannot all be friars, and various are the 
paths by which God conducts the good to heaven. 

Let us keep our holy days in peace, and not 
throw the rope after the bucket. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 7 1 

There is a time for jesting, and a time when 
jokes are unseasonable. 

Truth may bend but never break, and will ever 
rise above falsehood, like oil above water. 

With lovers the external actions and gestures 
are couriers, which bear authentic tidings of what 
is passing in the exterior of the soul. 

A stout heart flings misfortune. 

Where you meet with no books you need ex- 
pect no bacon. 

The hare often starts where the hunter least 
expects her. 

There is a remedy for every thing but death, 
who will take us in his clutches spite of our teeth. 

Show me who thou art with, and I will tell thee 
what thou art. 

Not with whom thou wert bred, but with whom 
thou art fed. 

Sorrow was made for man, not for beasts, yet 
if men encourage melancholy too much, they be- 
come no better than beasts. 

It is not courage, but rashness, for one man 
singly to encounter an army, where death is pres- 
ent, and where emperors fight in person, assisted by 
good and bad angels. 



7 2 WIT AND WISDOM 

Good Christians should never revenge injuries. 

A sparrow in the hand is better than a vulture 
on the wing. 

At the conclusion of this drama of life, death 
strips us of the robes which make the difference 
between man and man, and leaves us all on one 
level in the grave. 

From a friend to a friend,* etc. 

Nor let it be taken amiss that any comparison 
should be made between the mutual cordiality of 
animals and that of men ; for much useful knowl- 
edge and many salutary precepts have been taught 
by the brute creation. 

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketh.f 

We may learn gratitude as well as vigilance 
from cranes, foresight from ants, modesty from ele- 
phants, and loyalty from horses. 

SONNET. 

Bright authoress of my good or ill, 
Prescribe the law I must observe; 

My heart, obedient to thy will, 
Shall never from its duty swerve. 

* " From a friend to a friend, a bug in the eye," is a proverb ap- 
plied to the false professions of friendship. 

j- Cervantes makes frequent use of Bible quotations. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. J$ 

If you refuse my griefs to know, 
The stifled anguish seals my fate ; 

But if your ears would drink my woe. 
Love shall himself the tale relate. 

Though contraries my heart compose, 
Hard as the diamond's solid frame, 

And soft as yielding wax that flows, 
To thee, my fair, 'tis still the same. 

Take it, for every stamp prepared ; 

Imprint what characters you choose -> 
The faithful tablet, soft or hard, 

The dear impression ne'er shall lose. 

The sorrows that may arise from well-placed 
affections, ought rather to be accounted blessings 
than calamities. 

Good fare lessens care. 

Covetousness bursts the bae. 

Other folks' burdens break the ass's back. 

There is no road so smooth but it has its stum- 
bling-places. 

Madness will have more followers than discre- 
tion. 

Comparisons in grief lessen its weight. 

If the blind lead the blind, both may fall into 
the ditch. 



74 WIT AND WISDOM 

If we have a good loaf, let us not look for 
cheese-cakes. 

A good paymaster needs no pledge. 

Nobody knows the heart of his neighbor ; some 
go out for wool and come home shorn. 

The conquered must be at the discretion of the 
conqueror. 

It is easy to undertake, but more difficult to 
finish a thing. 

Heaven knows the truth of all things. 

The ancient sages, who were not enlightened 
with the knowledge of the true God, reckoned the 
gifts of fortune and nature, abundance of friends, 
and increase of dutiful children, as constituting part 
of the supreme happiness. 

Letters without virtue are like pearls on a dung- 
hill. 

Poetry I regard as a tender virgin, young and 
extremely beautiful, whom divers other virgins — 
namely, all the other sciences- — are assiduous to en- 
rich, to polish, and adorn. She is to be served by 
them, and they are to be ennobled through her. But 
this same virgin is not to be rudely handled, nor 
dragged through the streets, nor exposed in the 
market-place, nor posted on the corners of gates of 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 75 

palaces. She is of so exquisite a nature that he who 
knows how to treat her will convert her into gold 
of the most inestimable value. He who possesses 
her should guard her with vigilance ; neither suffer- 
ing her to be polluted bv obscene, nor degraded by 
dull and frivolous works. Although she must be in 
no wise venal, she is not, therefore, to despise the 
fair reward of honorable labors, either in heroic or 
dramatic composition. Buffoons must not come 
near her, neither must she be approached bv the 
ignorant vulgar, who have no sense of her charms ; 
and this term is equally applicable to all ranks, for 
whoever is ignorant is vulgar. He, therefore, who, 
with the qualifications I have named, devotes him- 
self to poetry, will be honored and esteemed bv all 
nations distinguished for intellectual cultivation. 

Indeed, it is generally said that the gift of poesy 
is innate— that is, a poet is born a poet, and thus 
endowed by Heaven, apparently without study or 
art, composes things which verify the saving, Est 
dens in nobis, etc. Thus the poet of nature, who 
improves himself by art, rises far above him who is 
merely the creature of study. Art may improve, 
but cannot surpass nature ; and, therefore, it is the 
union of both which produces the perfect poet. 

Let him direct the shafts of satire against vice, 
in all its various forms, but not level them at indi- 
viduals, like some who, rather than not indulge 
their mischievous wit, will hazard a disgraceful ban- 



76 WIT AND WISDOM 

ishment to the Isles of Pontus. If the poet be cor- 
rect in his morals, his verse will partake of the same 
purity : the pen is the tongue of the mind, and what 
his conceptions are, such will be his productions. 
The wise and virtuous subject who is gifted with a 
poetic genius is ever honored and enriched by his 
sovereign, and crowned with the leaves of the tree 
which the thunderbolt hurts not, as a token that all 
should respect those brows which are so honorably 
adorned. 

Forewarned, fore-armed ; to be prepared is half 
the victory. 

It is a nobler sight to behold a knight-errant 
assisting a widow in solitude than a courtier-knight 
complimenting a damsel in the city. 

Well I know that fortitude is a virtue placed 
between the two extremes of cowardice and rash- 
ness : but it is better the valiant should rise to the 
extreme of temerity than sink to that of cowardice : 
for, as it is easier for the prodigal than the miser to 
become liberal, so it is much easier for the rash 
than the cowardly to become truly brave. 

In enterprises of every kind, it is better to lose 
the game by a card too much than one too little ; 
for it sounds better to be called rash and daring 
than timorous and cowardly. 

" Signor Don Diego de Miranda, your father, 
sir, has informed me of the rare talents you possess, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. J J 

and particularly that you are a great poet." " Cer- 
tainly not a great poet," replied Lorenzo \ " it is 
true I am fond of poetry, and honor the works of 
good poets ; but I have no claim to the title my 
father is pleased to confer upon me." u I do not 
dislike this modesty," answered Don Quixote ; " for 
poets are usually very arrogant, each thinking him- 
self the greatest in the world." " There is no rule 
without an exception," answered Don Lorenzo; 
"and surely there may be some who do not appear 
too conscious of their real merits." " Very few, I 
believe," said Don Quixote. 

THE TEXT. 

Could I recall departed joy, 

Though barred the hopes of greater gain, 
Or now the future hours employ 

That must succeed my present pain. 

THE PARAPHRASE. 

All fortune's blessings disappear, 

She's fickle as the wind ; 
And now I find her as severe 

As once I thought her kind. 
How soon the fleeting pleasures passed ! 
How long the lingering sorrows last ! 

Unconstant goddess, in thy haste, 
Do not thy prostrate slave destroy ; 

I'd ne'er complain, but bless my fate, 
Could I recall departed joy. 



j8 WIT AND WISDOM 

a 

Of all thy gifts I beg but this ; 

Glut all mankind with more, 
Transport them with redoubled bliss, 

But only mine restore. 
With thought of pleasure once possessed, 
I'm now as cursed as I was blessed : 

Oh, would the charming hours return, 
How pleased I'd live, how free from pain, 

I ne'er would pine, I ne'er would mourn, 
Though barred the hopes of greater gain. 

But oh, the blessing I implore 

Not fate itself can give ! 
Since time elapsed exists no more, 

No power can bid it live. 
Our days soon vanish into naught, 
And have no being but in thought. 

Whate'er began must end at last, 
In vain we twice would youth enjoy, 

In vain would we recall the past, 
Or now the future hours employ. 

Deceived by hope, and racked by fear, 

No longer life can please ; 
I'll then no more its torments bear, 

Since death so soon can ease. 
This hour I'll die— but, let me pause — 
A rising doubt my courage awes. 

Assist, ye powers that rule my fate, 
Alarm my thoughts, my rage restrain, 

Convince my soul there's yet a state 
That must succeed my present pain. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 79 

O Flattery, how potent is thy sway J How 

wide the bounds of thy pleasing jurisdiction ! 

ON THE STORY OF PYRAMUS AND THI3BE. 

SOXXET. 

The nymph who Pyramus with love inspired 
Pierces the wall, with equal passion fired : 
Cupid from distant Cyprus thither flies, 
And views the secret breach with laughing eves. 

Here silence, vocal, mutual vows conveys, 
And whispering eloquent, their love betravs : 
Though chained by fear, their voices dare not pass, 
Their souls, transmitted through the chink, embrace. 

Ah, woful story of disastrous love ! 
Ill-fated haste that did their ruin prove ! 
One death, one grave, unite the faithful pair, 
And in one common fame their memories share. 

No parents can see the deformity of their own 
children, and still stronger is this self-deception with 
respect to the offspring of the mind. 

At parting, Don Quixote addressing himself to 
Don Lorenzo : " I know not," said he, " whether 
I have already told your worship, but if I have, let 
me now repeat the intimation, that when you are 
inclined to take the shortest and easiest road to the 
inaccessible summit of the temple of fame, you 
have no more to do, but to leave on one side the 
path of poetry, which is pretty narrow, and follow 



80 WIT AND WISDOM 

that of knight-errantry, which, though the narrowest 
of all others, will conduct you to the throne of em- 
pire in the turning of a straw." 

Riches are able to solder abundance of flaws. 

Every sheep to its like. 

Let every goose a gander choose. 

" If love only were to be considered," said Don 
Quixote, " parents would no longer have the priv- 
ilege of judiciously matching their children. Were 
daughters left to choose for themselves, there are 
those who would prefer their father's serving-man, 
or throw themselves away on some fellow they 
might chance to see in the street : mistaking, per- 
haps, an impostor and swaggering poltroon for a 
gentleman : since passion too easily blinds the un- 
derstanding, so indispensably necessary in deciding 
on that most important point, matrimony, which is 
peculiarly exposed to the danger of a mistake, and 
therefore needs all the caution that human prudence 
can supply, aided by the particular favor of Heaven. 
A person who proposes to take a long journey, if 
he is prudent, before he sets forward will look out 
for some safe and agreeable companion ; and should 
not he who undertakes a journey for life use the 
same precaution, especially as his fellow-traveller 
is to be his companion at bed and board, and in all 
other situations ? The wife is not a commodity 
which, when once bought, you can exchange or 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 8l 

return ; the marriage bargain, once struck, is irrev- 
ocable. It is a noose which, once thrown about 
the neck, turns to a Gordian knot, and cannot be 
unloosed till cut asunder by the scythe of death." 

By the streets of " by-and-by " one arrives at 
the house of never. 

God who gives the wound sends the cure. 

Nobody knows what is to come. A great many 
hours come in between this and to-morrow ; and in 
one hour, yea, in one minute, down falls the house. 
I have seen rain and sunshine at the same moment ; 
a man may go to bed well at night, and not be able 
to stir next morning ; and tell me who can boast 
of having- driven a nail in fortune's wheel ? 

Between the yes and no of a woman I would 
not undertake to thrust the point of a pin. 

" Love, as I have heard say, wears spectacles, 
through which copper looks like gold, rags like rich 
apparel, and specks in the eye like pearls." " A 
curse on thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " what 
wouldst thou be at ? When once thy stringing of 
proverbs begins, Judas alone — -I wish he had thee ! 
— can have patience to the end. Tell me, animal ! 
what knowest thou of nails and wheels, or of any 
thing else ? " u Oh, if I am not understood," re- 
plied Sancho, " no wonder that what I say passes 
for nonsense. But no matter for that — I under- 
stand myself: neither have I said many foolish 



82 WIT AND WISDOM 

things, only your worship is such a cricket." " Critic 
— not cricket, fool ! — thou corrupter of good lan- 
guage," said the knight. " Pray, sir, do not be so 
sharp upon me," answered Sancho, " for I was not 
bred at court, nor studied in Salamanca, to know 
whether my words have a letter short, or one too 
many. As Heaven shall save me, it is unreason- 
able to expect that beggarly Sayagues should talk 
like Toledans — nay, even some of them are not 
over-nicely spoken." 

Purity, propriety, and elegance of style, will al- 
ways be found among polite, well-bred, and sensible 
men. 

I have heard it said of your fencers, that they 
can thrust you the point of a sword through the eye 
of a needle. 

O happy thou above all that live on the face of 
the earth, who, neither envying nor envied, canst 
take thy needful rest with tranquillity of soul : nei- 
ther persecuted by enchanters, nor affrighted by 
their machinations ! Sleep on — a hundred times I 
say, sleep on ! No jealousies on thy lady's account 
keep thee in perpetual watchings, nor do anxious 
thoughts of debts unpaid awake thee ; nor care how 
on the morrow thou and thy little straitened fam- 
ily shall be provided for. Ambition disquiets thee 
not, nor does the vain pomp of the world disturb 
thee ; for thy chief concern is the care of thy ass ; 
since to me is committed the comfort and protec- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 83 

tion of thine own person : a burden imposed on the 
master by nature and custom. The servant sleeps, 
and the master lies awake, considering how he is to 
maintain, assist, and do him kindness. The pain 
of seeing the heavens obdurate in withholding the 
moisture necessary to refresh the earth, touches 
only the master, who is bound to provide in times 
of sterility and famine, for those who served him in 
the season of fertility and abundance. 

If he is poor he cannot think to wed Quiteria. 
A pleasant fancy, forsooth, for a fellow who has 
not a groat in his pocket to look for a yoke-mate 
above the clouds. Faith, sir, in my opinion a poor 
man should be contented with what he finds, and 
not be seeking for truffles at the bottom of the sea. 

CUPID'S ADDRESS. 

I am the god whose pow T er extends 

Through the wide ocean, earth, and sky ; 

To my soft sway all nature bends, 
Compelled by beauty to complv. 

Fearless I rule, in calm and storm, 
Indulge my pleasure to the full ; 

Things deemed impossible perform, 
Bestow, resume, ordain, annul. 

Cupid, having finished his address, shot an ar- 
row over the castle, and retired to his station ; upon 
which Interest stepped forth, and after two similar 
movements, the music ceasing, he said : 



84 WIT AND WISDOM 

My power exceeds the might of love, 

For Cupid bows to me alone ; 
Of all things framed by Heaven above, 

The most respected, sought, and known. 

My name is Interest ; mine aid 
But few obtain, though all desire : 
Yet shall thy virtue, beauteous maid, 
My constant services acquire. 

Interest then withdrew, and Poetry advanced ; 
and, fixing her eyes on the damsel of the castle, 
she said : 

Let Poetry, whose strain divine 

The wondrous power of song displays, 
Her heart to thee, fair nymph, consign, 
Transported in melodious lays : 

If haply thou wilt not refuse 
To grant my supplicated boon, 

Thy fame shall, wafted by the muse, 
Surmount the circle of the moon. 

Poetry having retired from the side of Interest, 
Liberality advanced ; and, after making her move- 
ments, said : 

My name is Liberality, 

Alike beneficent and wise, 
To shun wild prodigality, 

And sordid avarice despise. 

Yet, for thy favor lavish grown, 

A prodigal I mean to prove, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 85 

An honorable vice, I own, 
But giving is the test of love. 

So much thou art worth as thou hast, and so 
much thou hast as thou art worth. 

There are only two families in the world : the 
have somethings and the have nothings. Nowa- 
days we are apt to feel more often the pulse of 
property than of wisdom. 

SANCHO PANZA ON DEATH. 

" In good sooth, signor," said the squire, " there 
is no trusting to Mrs. Ghostly, I mean Death, who 
gobbles up the goslin as well as the goose ; and, as 
I have heard our curate observe, tramples down 
the lofty turrets of the prince as well as the lowly 
cottage of the swain. That same lady, who is more 
powerful than coy, knows not what it is to be dainty 
and squeamish; but eats of every thing, and crams 
her wallet with people of all nations, degrees, and 
conditions ; she is none of your laborers that take 
their afternoon's nap, but mows at all hours, cutting 
down the dry stubble as well as the green grass ; 
nor does she seem to chew, but rather swallows 
and devours every thing that falls in her way ; for 
she is gnawed by a dog's hunger that is never satis- 
fied ; and though she has no belly, plainly shows 
herself dropsical, and so thirsty as to drink up the 
lives of all the people upon earth, just as one would 
swallow a draught of cool water." " Enough, 



86 WIT AND WISDOM 

friend Sancho," cried the knight, interrupting him 
in this place ; u keep thyself well, now thou art in 
order, and beware of stumbling again; for really a 
good preacher could not speak more to the purpose 
than thou hast spoken upon Death, in thy rustic 
manner of expression : I say unto thee, Sancho, if 
thy discretion was equal to thy natural parts, thou 
mightest ascend the pulpit, and go about teaching 
and preaching to admiration." " He is a good 
preacher who is a good liver," answered Panza, 
u and that is all the divinity I know." " And that 
is sufficient," said the knight; "yet I shall never 
understand or comprehend, as the fear of God is 
the beginning of wisdom, how thou, who art more 
afraid of a lizard than of thy Maker, should be so 
wise ? " " Signor," replied Sancho, " I desire your 
worship would determine in your own affairs of chiv- 
alry, without taking the trouble to judge of other 
people's valor or fears ; for my own part, I am as 
pretty a fearer of God as one would desire to see in 
any neighbor's child ; wherefore, I beseech your 
worship, let me discuss this same scum ; for every 
thing else is idle chat, of which we shall be able to 
give a bad account in the other world." 

An ass with golden trappings makes a better 
appearance than a horse with a pack-saddle. 

" That ought not to be called deception which 
aims at a virtuous end," said Don Quixote ; " and 
no end is more excellent than the marriage of true 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 87 

lovers ; though love," added he, " has its enemies, 
and none greater than hunger and poverty, for love 
is all gayety, joy, and content." 

" The poor man of honor (if a poor man can de- 
serve that title) possesses, in a beautiful wife, a 
jewel ; and when that is taken away, he is deprived 
of his honor, which is murdered : a beautiful and 
chaste woman, whose husband is poor, deserves to 
be crowned with laurel and palms of triumph ; for 
beauty alone attracts the inclinations of those who 
behold it ; just as the royal eagle and soaring hawk 
stoop to the savory lure ; but if that beauty is in- 
cumbered by poverty and want, it is likewise at- 
tacked by ravens, kites, and other birds of prey ; 
and if she who possesses it firmly withstands all 
these assaults, she well deserves to be called the 
crown of her husband. Take notice, dearest 
Basilius," added the knight, " it was the opinion of 
a certain sage, that there was but one good wife in 
the whole world ; and he advised every husband to 
believe she had fallen to his share, and accordingly 
be satisfied with his lot. I myself am not married, 
nor hitherto have I entertained the least thought of 
changing my condition ; nevertheless, I wnll venture 
to advise him who asks my advice, in such a manner, 
that he may find a woman to his wish : in the first 
place, I would exhort him to pay more regard to 
reputation than to fortune ; for a virtuous woman 
does not acquire a good name, merely by being vir- 



Od WIT AND WISDOM 

tuous \ she must likewise maintain the exteriors of 
deportment, for the honor of the sex suffers much 
more from levity and freedom of behavior in public, 
than from any private misdeeds. If thou bringest 
a good woman to thy house, it will be an easy task 
to preserve and even improve her virtue ; but, 
shouldst thou choose a wife of a different character, 
it will cost thee abundance of pains to mend her ; 
for it is not very practicable to pass from one ex- 
treme to another : I do not say it is altogether im- 
possible, though I hold it for a matter of much dif- 
ficulty." 

The ox that is loose is best licked. 

Sancho, who had been attentive to the student's 
discourse, said : " Tell me, sir — so may Heaven 
send you good luck with your books — can you re- 
solve me — but I know you can, since you know 
every thing — who was the first man that scratched 
his head ? I, for my part, am of opinion, it must 
have been our father Adam." "Certainly," an- 
swered the scholar ; " for there is no doubt but 
Adam had a head and hair ; and, this being granted, 
he, being the first man in the world, must needs 
have been the first who scratched his head." " That 
is what I think," said Sancho ; " but tell me now, 
who was the first tumbler in the world ? " " Truly, 
brother," answered the scholar, " I cannot deter- 
mine that point till I have given it some considera- 
tion, which I will surely do when I return to my 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 89 

books, and will satisfy you when we see each other 
again, for I hope this will not be the last time." 
" Look ye, sir," replied Sancho, " be at no trouble 
about the matter, for I have already hit upon the 
answer to my question. Know, then, that the first 
tumbler was Lucifer, when he was cast or thrown 
headlong from heaven, and came tumbling; down 
to the lowest abyss." "Sancho," quoth Don Quix- 
ote, "thou hast said more than thou art aware of; 
for some there are who bestow much labor in ex- 
amining and explaining things which when known 
are not worth recollecting." 

I am thoroughly satisfied that all the pleasures 
of this life pass away like a shadow or dream, or 
fade like a flower of the field. 

Patience, and shuffle the cards. 

We are all bound to respect the aged. 

Tell me thy company and I will tell thee what 
thou art. 

Whatever is uncommon appears impossible. 

The hypocrite, who cloaks his knavery, is less 
dangerous to the commonwealth than he who trans- 
gresses in the face of day. 

He who only wears the garb of piety does less 
harm than the professed sinner. 

I had rather serve the king in his wars abroad, 
than be the. lackey of any beggarly courtier at home. 



90 WIT AND WISDOM 

There is nothing more honorable, next to the 
service which you owe to God, than to serve your 
king and natural lord, especially in the profession 
of arms, which, if less profitable than learning, far 
exceeds it in glory. More great families, it is true, 
have been established by learning, yet there is in 
the martial character a certain splendor, which 
seems to exalt it far above all other pursuits. But 
allow me, sir, to offer you a piece of advice, which, 
believe me, you will find worth your attention. 
Never suffer your mind to dwell on the adverse 
events of your life ; for the worst that can befall 
you is death, and when attended with honor there 
is no event so glorious. Julius Caesar, that val- 
orous Roman, being asked which was the kind of 
death to be preferred, " That," said he, " which is 
sudden and unforeseen ! " Though he answered 
like a heathen, who knew not the true God, yet 
considering human infirmity, it was well said. For, 
supposing you should be cut off in the very first 
encounter, either by cannon-shot or the springing 
of a mine, what does it signify ? it is but dying, 
which is inevitable, and, being over, there it ends. 
Terence observes that the corpse of the man who 
is slain in battle looks better than the living soldier 
who has saved himself by flight ; and the good sol- 
dier rises in estimation according to the measure of 
his obedience to those who command him. Ob- 
serve, moreover, my son, that a soldier had better 
smell of gunpowder than of musk; and if old age 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 9 1 

overtakes you in this noble profession, though lame 
and maimed, and covered with wounds, it will find 
you also covered with honor ; and of such honor as 
poverty itself cannot deprive you. From poverty, 
indeed, you are secure ; for care is now taken that 
veteran and disabled soldiers shall not be exposed to 
want, nor be treated as many do their negro slaves, 
when old and past service, turning them out of their 
houses, and, under pretence of giving them freedom, 
leave them slaves to hunger, from which they can 
have no relief but in death. 

There are often rare abilities lost to the world, 
that are but ill-bestowed on those w T ho do not know 
how to employ them to advantage. 

If the abbot sings well, the novice comes not far 
behind him. 

Who reads and travels much, sees and learns 
much. 

It is the prerogative of God alone to truly com- 
prehend all things. To Him there is nothing past 
or future. Every thing is present. 

There is nothing that Time, the discoverer of 
all things, will not bring to light, even though it be 
hidden in the bowels of the earth. 

Length begets loathing. 

Heaven is merciful and sends relief in the great- 
est distress. 



92 WIT AND WISDOM 

Affectation is the devil. 

Heaven help every one to what is their just due, 
but let us have plain dealing. 

When choler once is born, 
The tongue all curb doth scorn. 

When a brave man flies, he must have discov- 
ered foul play. 

To retire is not to fly. 

Other men's pains are easily borne. 

He who errs and mends, 
Himself to Heaven commends. 

Those who sin and kiss the rod, 
Find favor in the sight of God. 

If you obey the commands of your lord, 
You may sit as a guest at his board. 

In this world there is nothing but plots and 
counterplots, mines, and countermines. 

Where there is plenty, dinner is soon made 
ready. 

Often the hare starts where she is least ex- 
pected. 

I have heard it said, that the power called Na- 
ture is like a potter, who, if he can make one beau- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 93 

tiful vessel, can in like manner make two, three, 
ay, and a hundred. 

Wit and gay conceits proceed not from dull 
heads. 

Every man must speak of his wants wherever 
he may be. 

Modesty is as becoming a knight-errant as cour- 
age. 

The master is respected in proportion to the 
discretion and good breeding of his servants. 

Who sets up for a talker and a wit, sinks at the 
first trip into a contemptible buffoon. 

The weapons of gownsmen, like those of wo- 
men, are their tongues. 

Keep company with the good, and you will be 
one of them. 

Not where you were born, but where you were 
bred. 

Well sheltered shall he be 
Who leans against a sturdy tree. 

An affront must come from a person who not 
only gives it, but who can maintain it when it is 
given ; an injury may come from any hand. 

He who can receive no affront can give none. 



94 WIT AND WISDOM 

One must live long to see much. 

He who lives long must suffer much. 

To deprive a knight-errant of his mistress, is to 
rob him of the eyes with which he sees, the sun by 
which he is enlightened, and the support by which 
he is maintained : I have many times said, and now 
I repeat the observation, that a knight-errant with- 
out a mistress, is like a tree without leaves, a build- 
ing without cement, and a shadow without the sub- 
stance by which it is produced. 

Possessing beauty without blemish, dignity with- 
out pride, love with modesty, politeness springing 
from courtesy, and courtesy from good-breeding, 
and, finally, of illustrious descent ; for the beauty 
that is of a noble race, shines with more splendor 
than that which is meanly born. 

Virtue ennobles blood, and a virtuous person of 
humble birth is more estimable than a vicious per- 
son of rank. 

I must inform your graces, that Sancho Panza 
is one of the most pleasant squires that ever served 
a knight-errant : sometimes his simplicity is so arch, 
that to consider whether he is more fool or wag, 
yields abundance of pleasure ; he has roguery enough 
to pass for a knave, and absurdities sufficient to 
confirm him a fool ; he doubts every thing, and be- 
lieves every thing ; and often, when I think he is 
going to discharge nonsense, he will utter apo- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 95 

thegms that will raise him to the skies : in a word, 
I would not exchange him for any other squire, 
even with a city to boot ; and therefore I am in 
doubt whether or not it will be expedient to send 
him to that government which your grace has been 
so good as to bestow upon him ; although I can 
perceive in him a certain aptitude for such an office : 
so that, when his understanding is a very little pol- 
ished, he will agree with any government, like the 
king with his customs ; for we know by repeated 
experience, that great talents and learning are not 
necessary in a governor, as there are a hundred at 
least, who govern like gerfalcons, though they can 
hardly read their mother tongue : provided their 
intention is righteous, and their desire to do justice, 
they will never want counsellors to direct them in 
every transaction, like your military governors, who 
being illiterate themselves, never decide without 
the advice of an assessor. I shall advise him cor- 
ruption to eschew, but never quit his due ; and in- 
culcate some other small matters that are in my 
head, which, in process of time, may redound to 
his own interest, as well as to the advantage of the 
island under his command. 

The customs of countries, or of great men's 
houses, are good as far as they are agreeable. 

The pismire found wings to her sorrow. 

There's as good bread baked here as in France. 



96 WIT AND WISDOM 

By night all cats are gray. 

Sure the man his lot may rue, 
Who has not broke his fast by two. 

Of the birds in the air 
God Himself takes the care. 

And four yards of coarse cloth of Cuenza are 
warmer than as many of fine Segovia serge ; and in 
travelling from this world to the next, the road is 
no wider for the prince than the peasant. The 
pope's body takes up no more room than that of the 
sexton, though a loftier person ; for in the grave we 
must pack close together, whether we like it or not. 

I have heard say the devil lurks behind the 
cross ; all is not gold that glitters. From the 
ploughtail Bamba was raised to the throne of Spain, 
and from his riches and revels was Roderigo cast 
down to be devoured by serpents — if ancient bal- 
lads tell the truth. 

None shall dare the loaf to steal 

From him that sifts and kneads the meal. 

An old dog is not to be coaxed with a crust. 

No man is ever a scholar at his birth, and bish- 
ops are made of men, not of stones. 

There is a Judge in heaven who knows the 
heart. 

A good name is better than tons of gold. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 97 

He who has been a good squire will never be a 
bad governor. 

A bad cloak often covers a good drinker. 

When a friend drinks one's health, who can be 
so hard-hearted as not to pledge him ? 

God's help is better than early rising. 

Flame may give light, and bonfires may illumi- 
nate, yet w r e may easily be burnt by them ; but 
music is always a sign of feasting and merriment. 

THE ENCHANTER'S ERRAND. 

Merlin I am, miscalled the devil's son 
In lying annals, authorized by time ; 
Monarch supreme, and great depositary 
Of magic art and Zoroastic skill ; 
Rival of envious ages, that would hide 
The glorious deeds of errant cavaliers, 
Favored by me and my peculiar charge. 
Though vile enchanters, still on mischief bent, 
To plague mankind their baleful art employ, 
Merlin's soft nature, ever prone to good, 
His power inclines to bless the human race. 

In Hades' chambers, where my busied ghost 
Was forming spells and mystic characters, 
Dulcinea's voice, peerless Tobosan maid. 
With mournful accents reached my pitying ears ; 
I knew her woe, her metamorphosed form, 



98 WIT AND WISDOM 

From high-born beauty in a palace graced, 
To the loathed features of a cottage wench. 
With sympathizing grief I straight revolved 
The numerous tomes of my detested art, 
And in the hollow of this skeleton 
My soul enclosing, hither am I come, 
To tell the cure of such uncommon ills. 

O glory thou of all that case their limbs 
In polished steel and fenceful adamant ! 
Light, beacon, polar star, and glorious guide 
Of all who, starting from the lazy down, 
Banish ignoble sleep for the rude toil 
And hardy exercise of errant arms ! 
Spain's boasted pride, La Mancha's matchless knight, 
Whose valiant deeds outstrip pursuing fame ! 
Wouldst thou to beauty's pristine state restore 
The enchanted dame, Sancho, thy faithful squire, 
Must to his brawny buttocks, bare exposed, 
Three thousand and three hundred stripes apply, 
Such as may sting and give him smarting pain : 
The authors of her change have thus decreed, 
And this is Merlin's errand from the shades. 

The golden load is a light burden. 

Gifts will make their way through stone walls. 

Pray devoutly and hammer on stoutly. 

One take is worth two I'll give thee's. 

Let the devil fetch the devil. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 99 

All times are not alike, nor are men always in a 
humor for all things. 

Leave fear to the cowardly. 

A stout heart quails misfortune. 

Letters written in blood cannot be disputed. 

If you seek advice about your own concerns, 
one will say it is white and another will swear it is 
black. 

Nothing is so reasonable and cheap as good 
manners. 

He is safe who has good cards to play. 

Avarice bursts the bag, and the covetous gov- 
ernor doeth ungoverned justice. 

The law's measure 
Is the king's pleasure. 

The game is as often lost by a card too many 
as one too few ; but a word to the w T ise is sufficient. 

The tyrant fair whose beauty sent 
The throbbing mischief to my heart, 

The more my anguish to augment, 
Forbids me to reveal the smart. 

Come, Death, with gently-stealing pace, 
And take me unperceived away, 

Nor let me see thy wished-for face, 
Lest joy my fleeting life should stay. 



100 WIT AND WISDOM 

While there is life there is hope. 

Bishops are made out of learned men, and why 
may not kings and emperors be made out of cav- 
aliers ? 

A knight-errant with but two grains of good 
luck is next in the order of promotion to the great- 
est lord in the land. 

Let every beard be shaved according to the 
owner's fancy. 

Delay breeds danger. 

When the heifer you receive, 
Have a halter in your sleeve. 

When a thing is once begun, it is almost half 
finished. 

Who sits in the saddle must get up first. 

There is nothing so sweet as to command and 
be obeyed. 

It is a pleasant thing to govern, even though it 
be but a flock of sheep. 

Containing the Instructions tvhich Don Quixote gave 
to Sancho Panza before he went to his Govern- 
ment ; with other well-considered ?natters. 

The duke and duchess being so well pleased 
with the afflicted duenna, were encouraged to pro- 
ceed with other projects, seeing that there was noth- 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 10 1 

ing too extravagant for the credulity of the knight 
and squire. The necessary orders were accordingly 
issued to their servants and vassals with regard to 
their behavior toward Sancho in his government of 
the promised island. The day after the flight of 
Clavileno, the duke bade Sancho prepare, and get 
himself in readiness to assume his office, for his 
islanders were already wishing for him as for rain 
in May. Sancho made a low bow, and said, " Ever 
since my journey to heaven, when I looked down 
and saw the earth so very small, my desire to be a 
governor has partly cooled : for what mighty matter 
is it to command on a spot no bigger than a grain of 
mustard-seed : where is the majesty and pomp of 
governing half a dozen creatures no bigger than 
hazel-nuts ? If your lordship will be pleased to 
offer me some small portion of heaven, though it 
be but half a league, I would jump at it sooner than 
for the largest island in the world." 

" Look you, friend Sancho," answered the duke, 
" I can give away no part of heaven, not even a 
nail's breadth ; for God has reserved to Himself the 
disposal of such favors ; but what it is in my power 
to give, I give you with all my heart ; and the 
island I now present to you is ready made, round 
and sound, well-proportioned, and above measure 
fruitful, and where, by good management, you may 
yourself, with the riches of the earth, purchase an 
inheritance in heaven." " Well, then," answered 
Sancho, " let this island be forthcoming, and it shall 



102 WIT AND WISDOM 

go hard with me but I will be such a governor that, 
in spite of rogues, heaven will take me in. Nor is 
it out of covetousness that I forsake my humble 
cottage and aspire to greater things, but the desire I 
have to taste what it is to be a governor." " If 
once you taste it, Sancho," quoth the duke, " you 
will lick your fingers after it : so sweet it is to com- 
mand and be obeyed. And certain I am, when 
your master becomes an emperor, of which there is 
no doubt, as matters proceed so well, it would be 
impossible to wrest his power from him, and his 
only regret will be that he had it not sooner. 55 
" Faith, sir, you are in the right, 55 quoth Sancho, 
" it is pleasant to govern, though it be but a flock 
of sheep. 55 " Let me be buried with you, Sancho, 55 
replied the duke, "if you know not something of 
every thing, and I doubt not you will prove a pearl 
of a governor. But enough of this for the present : 
to-morrow you surely depart for your island, and 
this evening you shall be fitted with suitable apparel 
and with all things necessary for your appointment. 55 
" Clothe me as you will, 55 said Sancho, " I shall 
still be Sancho Panza. 55 " That is true, 55 said the 
duke ; " but the garb should always be suitable to 
the office and rank of the wearer : for a lawyer to 
be habited like a soldier, or a soldier like a priest, 
would be preposterous ; and you, Sancho, must be 
clad partly like a scholar and partly like a soldier ; 
as, in the office you will hold, arms and learning 
are united. 55 " As for learning, 55 replied Sancho, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. IO3 

" I have not much of that, for I hardly know my 
ABC; but to be a good governor, it will be 
enough that I am able to make my Christ-cross : 
and as to arms, I shall handle such as are given me 
till I fall, and so God help me." " With so good 
an intention," quoth the duke, " Sancho cannot do 
wrong." 

Here they were joined by Don Quixote, who 
understanding the subject of their conversation, and 
the short space allotted to Sancho to prepare for his 
departure, took the squire by the hand, with the 
duke's permission, and led him to his apartment, in 
order to instruct him how T to behave in his office. 
Having entered the chamber he locked the door, 
and obliging Sancho to sit down by him, spoke to 
this effect, in a grave and solemn tone : 

" I return infinite thanks to Heaven, friend 
Sancho, for having ordained that, before I myself 
have met with the least success, good fortune hath 
gone forth to bid thee welcome. I, who had bal- 
anced the remuneration of thy service in my own 
prosperity, find myself in the very rudiments of 
promotion ; while thou, before thy time, and con- 
trary to all the laws of reasonable progression, find- 
est thy desire accomplished : other people bribe, 
solicit, importune, attend levees, entreat, and per- 
severe, without obtaining their suit ; and another 
comes, who, without knowing why or wherefore, 
finds himself in possession of that office to which so 
many people laid claim : and here the old saying is 



104 WIT AND WISDOM 

aptly introduced, c A pound of good luck is worth a 
ton of merit.' Thou, who, in comparison to me, 
art doubtless an ignorant dunce, without rising early 
or sitting up late, or, indeed, exerting the least 
industry ; without any pretension more or less than 
that of being breathed upon by knight-errantry, 
seest thyself created governor of an island as if it 
was a matter of moonshine. All this I observe, O 
Sancho, that thou mayst not attribute thy success 
to thy own deserts : but give thanks to heaven for 
having disposed matters so beneficially in thy be- 
half, and then make thy acknowledgments to that 
grandeur which centres in the profession of knight- 
errantry. Thy heart being thus predisposed to be- 
lieve what I have said, be attentive, O my son, to 
me who am thy Cato, thy counsellor, thy north- 
pole and guide, to conduct thee into a secure harbor 
from the tempestuous sea into which thou art going 
to be engulfed ; for great posts and offices of state 
are no other than a profound gulf of confusion. 

" In the first place, O my son, you are to fear 
God : the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom 
and if you are wise you cannot err. 

" Secondly, you must always remember who you 
are, and endeavor to know yourself; a study of all 
others the most difficult. This self-knowledge will 
hinder you from blowing yourself up like the frog 
in order to rival the size of the ox : if, therefore, 
you succeed in this learning, the consideration of 
thy having been a swineherd will, like the pea- 



OF BON QUIXOTE. IO5 

cock's ugly feet, be a check upon thy folly and 
pride." " I own I once took care of hogs, when I 
was a boy," said Sancho ; u but, after I grew up, 
I quitted that employment, and took care of geese : 
but I apprehend that matter is not of great conse- 
quence, for all governors are not descended from the 
kingly race." " No, sure," answered the knight ; 
" and, for that reason, those who are not of noble 
extraction ought to sweeten the gravity of their 
function with mildness and affability ; which, being 
prudently conducted, will screen them from those 
malicious murmurs that no station can escape. 

" Conceal not the meanness of thy family, nor 
think it disgraceful to be descended from peasants : 
for, when it is seen that thou art not thyself 
ashamed, none will endeavor to make thee so; and 
deem it more meritorious to be a virtuous humble 
man than a lofty sinner. Infinite is the number of 
those who, born of low extraction, have risen to 
the highest dignities, both in church and state ; and 
of this truth I could tire thee with examples. 

" If thou takest virtue for the rule of life, and 
valuest thyself upon acting in all things conformably 
thereto, thou wilt have no cause to envy lords and 
princes ; for blood is inherited, but virtue is a com- 
mon property, and may be acquired by all ; it has, 
moreover, an intrinsic worth which blood has not. 
This being so, if, peradventure, any one of thy kin- 
dred visit thee in thy government, do not slight nor 
affront him ; but receive, cherish, and make much 



106 WIT AND WISDOM 

of him ; for in so doing thou wilt please God, who 
allows none of His creatures to be despised ; and 
thou wilt also manifest therein a well-disposed na- 
ture. 

" If thou takest thy wife with thee (and it is not 
well for those who are appointed to governments 
to be long separated from their families), teach, in- 
struct, and polish her from her natural rudeness : 
for it often happens that all the consideration a 
wise governor can acquire is lost by an ill-bred and 
foolish woman. 

" If thou shouldst become a widower (an event 
which is possible), and thy station entitles thee to a 
better match, seek not one to serve thee for a hook 
and angling-rod, or a friar's hood to receive alms 
in : * for, believe me, whatever the judge's wife 
receives, the husband must account for at the gen- 
eral judgment, and shall be made to pay fourfold 
for all that of which he has rendered no account 
during his life. 

" Be not under the dominion of thine own will : 
it is the vice of the ignorant, who vainly presume 
on their own understanding. 

" Let the tears of the poor find more compas- 
sion, but not more justice, from thee than the ap- 
plications of the wealthy. 

" Be equally solicitous to sift out the truth 

* The phrase No quiero de tu capllla alludes to the practice of friars, 
who, when charity is offered, hold out their hoods to receive it, while 
they pronounce a refusal with their tongues. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. IO7 

amidst the presents and promises of the rich and 
the sighs and entreaties of the poor. 

" Whenever equity may justly temper the rigor 
of the law, let not the whole force of it bear upon 
the delinquent : for it is better that a judge should 
lean on the side of compassion than severity. 

" If, perchance, the scales of justice be not cor- 
rectly balanced, let the error be imputable to pity, 
not to gold. 

" If, perchance, the cause of thine enemy come 
before thee, forget thy injuries, and think only on 
the merits of the case. 

" Let not private affection blind thee in another 
man's cause ; for the errors thou shalt thereby com- 
mit are often without remedy, and at the expense 
both of thy reputation and fortune. 

" When a beautiful woman comes before thee 
to demand justice, consider maturely the nature of 
her claim, without regarding either her tears or her 
sighs, unless thou wouldst expose thy judgment to 
the danger of being lost in the one, and thy integ- 
rity in the other. 

" Revile not with words him whom thou hast 
to correct with deeds : the punishment which the 
unhappy w T retch is doomed to suffer is sufficient, 
without the addition of abusive language. 

" When the criminal stands before thee, recol- 
lect the frail and depraved nature of man, and, as 
much as thou canst, without injustice to the suffer- 
ing party, show pity and clemency ; for, though 



105 WIT AND WISDOM 

the attributes of God are all equally adorable, yet 
His mercy is more shining and attractive in our eyes, 
and strikes with greater lustre, than His justice. 

" If you observe, and conduct yourself by these 
rules and precepts, Sancho, your days will be long 
upon the face of the earth ; your fame will be eter- 
nal, your reward complete, and your felicity unut- 
terable ; your children will be married according to 
your wish ; they and their descendants will enjoy 
titles ; you shall live in peace and friendship with 
all mankind ; when your course of life is run, death 
will overtake you in a happy and mature old age, 
and your eyes will be shut by the tender and deli- 
cate hands of your posterity, in the third or fourth 
generation. 

" The remarks I have hitherto made are docu- 
ments touching the decoration of your soul ; and 
now you will listen to the directions I have to give 
concerning thy person and deportment." 

Of the Second Sei'ies of Instructions Don Quixote gave 
to Sancho Panza. 

Who that has duly considered Don Quixote's 
instructions to his squire would not have taken him 
for a person of singular intelligence and discretion ? 
But, in truth, as it has often been said in the prog- 
ress of this great history, he raved only on the sub- 
ject of chivalry ; on all others he manifested a 
sound and discriminating understanding; wherefore 
his judgment and his actions appeared continually 



OF DON QUIXOTE. IO9 

at variance. But, in these second instructions given 
to Sancho, which showed much ingenuity, his wis- 
dom and frenzy are both singularly conspicuous. 

During the whole of this private conference, 
Sancho listened to his master with great attention, 
and endeavored so to register his counsel in his 
mind that he might thereby be enabled to bear the 
burden of government and acquit himself honorably, 
Don Quixote now proceeded : 

u As to the regulation of thine own person and 
domestic concerns," said he, " in the first place, 
Sancho, I enjoin thee to be cleanly in all things. 
Keep the nails of thy fingers constantly and neatly 
pared, nor suffer them to grow as some do, who 
ignorantly imagine that long nails beautify the hand, 
and account the excess of that excrement simply a 
finger-nail, w T hereas it is rather the talon of the 
lizard-hunting kestrel — a foul and unsightly object. 
A slovenly dress betokens a careless mind ; or, as 
in the case of Julius Caesar, it may be attributed to 
cunning. 

" Examine prudently the income of thy office, 
and if it will afford thee to give liveries to thy ser- 
vants, give them such as are decent and lasting, 
rather than gaudy and modish ; and what thou shalt 
thus save in thy servants bestow on the poor ; so 
shalt thou have attendants both in heaven and earth 
— a provision which our vain-glorious great never 
think of. 

" Eat neither garlic nor onions, lest the smell 



110 WIT AND WISDOM 

betray thy rusticity. Walk with gravity, and speak 
deliberately, but not so as to seem to be listening to 
thyself ; for affectation is odious. 

" Eat little at dinner and less at supper ; for the 
health of the whole body is tempered in the labora 
tory of the stomach. 

" Drink with moderation; for inebriety never 
keeps a secret nor performs a promise. 

" In the next place, Sancho, do not intermix in 
thy discourse such a multitude of proverbs as thou 
wert wont to do ; for though proverbs are concise 
and pithy sentences, thou dost so often drag them 
in by the head and shoulders that they look more 
like the ravings of distraction than well-chosen apo- 
thegms." 

" That defect God himself must remedy," said 
Sancho ; " for I have more proverbs by heart than 
would be sufficient to fill a large book ; and, when 
I speak, they crowd together in such a manner as 
to quarrel for utterance ; so that my tongue dis- 
charges them just as they happen to be in the way, 
whether they are or are not to the purpose : but I 
will take care henceforward to throw out those that 
may be suitable to the gravity of my office ; for, 
c Where there's plenty of meat, the supper will soon 
be complete ; ' c He that shuffles does not cut ; ' c A 
good hand makes a short game ; ' and, c It requires 
a good brain to know when to give and retain/ " 

" Courage, Sancho," cried Don Quixote •> 
" squeeze, tack, and string your proverbs together ; 



OF DON QUIXOTE. Ill 

here are none to oppose you. My mother whips 
me, and I whip the top. Here am I exhorting thee 
to suppress thy proverbs, and in an instant thou hast 
spewed forth a whole litany of them, which are as 
foreign from the subject as an old ballad. Remem- 
ber, Sancho, I do not say that a proverb properly 
applied is amiss ; but, to throw in, and string to- 
gether old saws helter-skelter, renders conversation 
altogether mean and despicable. 

" When you appear on horseback, do not lean 
backward over the saddle, nor stretch out your 
legs stiffly from the horse's belly, nor let them hang 
dangling in a slovenly manner, as if you were upon 
the back of Dapple ; for some ride like jockeys, and 
some like gentlemen. 

" Be very moderate in sleeping ; for he who 
does not rise with the sun cannot enjoy the day ; 
and observe, O Sancho, industry is the mother of 
prosperity ; and laziness, her opposite, never saw 
the accomplishment of a good wish. 

" This is all the advice, friend Sancho, that 
occurs to me at present ; hereafter, as occasions 
offer, my instructions will be ready, provided thou 
art mindful to inform me of the state of thy af- 
fairs." 

" Sir," answered Sancho, " I see very well that 
all your worship has told me is wholesome and 
profitable ; but what shall I be the better for it if I 
cannot keep it in my head ? It is true, I shall not 
easily forget what you have said about paring my 



112 WIT AND WISDOM 

nails, and marrying again if the opportunity offers ; 
but for your other quirks and quillets, I protest they 
have already gone out of my head as clean as last 
year's clouds ; and, therefore, let me have them in 
writing ; for, though I cannot read them myself, I 
will give them to my confessor, that he may repeat 
and drive them into me in time of need." 

" Heaven defend me ! " said Don Quixote, 
" how scurvy doth it look in a governor to be 
unable to read or write ! Indeed, Sancho, I must 
needs tell thee that when a man has not been 
taught to read, or is left-handed, it argues that his 
parentage was very low, or that, in early life, he 
was so indocile and perverse that his teachers could 
beat nothing good into him. Truly this is a great 
defect in thee, and therefore I would have thee 
learn to write, even if it were only thy name." 

" That I can do already," quoth Sancho ; " for 
when I was steward of the brotherhood in our vil- 
lage, I learned to make certain marks like those 
upon wool-packs, which, they told me, stood for 
my name. But, at the worst, I can feign a lame- 
ness in my right hand, and get another to sign for 
me : there is a remedy for every thing but death ; 
and, having the staff in my hand, I can do what I 
please. Besides, as your worship knows, he whose 
father is mayor * — and I, being governor, am, I 
trow, something more than mayor. 

* The entire proverb is : iC He whose father is mayor goes safe to 
his trial." 



OF DON QUIXOTE. II3 

" Ay, ay, let them come that list, and play at 
bo-peep — ay, fleer and backbite me ; but they may 
come for wool and go back shorn : 4 His home is 
savory whom God loves -, ■ — besides, c The rich 
man's blunders pass current for wise maxims ; ' so 
that I, being a governor, and therefore wealthy, and 
bountiful to boot — as I intend to be- — nobody will 
see any blemish in me. No, no, let the -clown 
daub himself with honey, and he will never want 
flies. c As much as you have, just so much you are 
worth, 5 said my grandam ; revenge yourself upon 
the rich who can." 

" Heaven confound thee ! " exclaimed Don 
Quixote ; " sixty thousand devils take thee and thy 
proverbs ! This hour, or more, thou hast been 
stringing thy musty wares, poisoning and torturing 
me without mercy. Take my word for it, these 
proverbs will one day bring thee to the gallows ; 
— they will surely provoke thy people to rebellion ! 
Where dost thou find them ? How shouldst thou 
apply them, idiot ? for I toil and sweat as if I were 
delving the ground to utter but one, and apply it 
properly." 

" Before Heaven, master of mine," replied 
Sancho, " your worship complains of very trifles. 
Why, in the devil's name, are you angry that J 
make use of my own goods ? for other stock I have 
none, nor any stock but proverbs upon proverbs ; 
and just now I have four ready to pop out, all pat 



114 WIT AND WISDOM 

and fitting as pears in a pannier — but I am dumo ; 
Silence is my name." * 

"Then art thou vilely miscalled," quoth Don 
Quixote, "being an eternal babbler. Neverthe- 
less, I would fain know these four proverbs that 
come so pat to the purpose ; for I have been rum- 
maging my own memory, which is no bad one, but 
for the soul of me, I can find none." 

" Can there be better," quoth Sancho, " than 
— c Never venture your fingers between two eye- 
teeth ; ' and with c Get out of my house — what 
would you have with my wife ? ' there is no argu- 
ing ; and, c Whether the pitcher hits the stone, or 
the stone hits the pitcher, it goes ill with the 
pitcher.' All these, your worship must see, fit to 
a hair. Let no one meddle with the governor or 
his deputy, or he will come off the worst, like him 
who claps* his finger between two eye-teeth, and 
though they were not eye-teeth, 'tis enough if they 
be but teeth. To what a governor says, there is no 
replying, any more than to c Get out of my house — 
what business have you with my wife ? ' Then as 
to the stone and the pitcher— a blind man may see 
that. So he who points to the mote in another 
man's eye, should first look to the beam in his own, 
that it may not be said of him, the dead woman 
was afraid of her that was flayed. Besides, your 
worship knows well that the fool knows more in 
his own house than the wise in that of another." 

* The proverb is : " To keep silence well is called Santo." 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I 15 

" Not so, Sancho," answered Don Quixote ; 
u tjie fool knows nothing, either in his own or any 
other house ; for knowledge is not to be erected 
upon so bad a foundation as folly. But here let it 
rest, Sancho, for, if thou governest ill, though the 
fault will be thine, the shame will be mine. How- 
ever, I am comforted in having given thee the best 
counsel in my power ; and therein having done my 
duty, I am acquitted both of my obligation and 
promise : so God speed thee, Sancho, and govern 
thee in thy government, and deliver me from the 
fears I entertain that thou wilt turn the whole 
island topsy-turvv ! — which, indeed, I might pre- 
vent by letting the duke know what thou art, and 
telling him that all that paunch-gut and little car- 
cass of thine is nothing but a sack full of proverbs 
and impertinence." 

" Signor," replied Sancho, " if your worship 
really thinks I am not qualified for that govern- 
ment, I renounce it from henceforward forever, 
amen. I have a greater regard for a nail's breadth 
of my soul than my whole body ; and I can sub- 
sist, as bare Sancho, upon a crust of bread and an 
onion, as well as governor on capons and par- 
tridges ; for, while we sleep, great and small, rich 
and poor, are equal all. If your worship will con- 
sider, your worship will find that you yourself put 
this scheme of government into my head : as for 
my own part, I know no more of the matter than a 

bustard ; and, if you think the governorship will be 
6 



Il6 WIT AND WISDOM 

the means of my going to the devil, I would much 
rather go as simple Sancho to heaven, than as a 
governor to hell-fire." 

" Before God ! " cried the knight, " from these 
last reflections thou hast uttered, I pronounce thee 
worthy to govern a thousand islands. Thou hast 
an excellent natural disposition, without which all 
science is naught : recommend thyself to God, and 
endeavor to avoid errors in the first intention ; 1 
mean, let thy intention and unshaken purpose be, 
to deal righteously in all thy transactions ; for 
Heaven always favors the upright design. And 
now let us go in to dinner ; for I believe their 
graces wait for us." 

Without discretion there can be no wit. 

" O poverty, poverty ! I know not what should 
induce the great Cordovan poet to call thee a holy 
unrequited gift. I, though a Moor, am very sensi- 
ble, from my correspondence with Christians, that 
holiness consists in charity, humility, faith, poverty, 
and obedience ; yet, nevertheless, I will affirm that 
he must be holy indeed, who can sit down content 
with poverty, unless we mean that kind of poverty 
to which one of the greatest saints alludes, when he 
says, " Possess of all things as not possessing them : " 
and this is called spiritual poverty. But thou second 
poverty, which is the cause I spoke of, why wouldst 
thou assault gentlemen of birth rather than any 
other class of people ? Why dost thou compel 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 117 

them to cobble their shoes, and wear upon their 
coats one button of silk, another of hair, and a 
third of glass ? Why must their ruffs be generally 
yellow and ill-starched ? " (By the by, from this 
circumstance we learn the antiquity of ruffs and 
starch.) But, thus he proceeds : " O wretched 
man of noble pedigree ! who is obliged to admin- 
ister cordials to his honor, in the midst of hunger 
and solitude, by playing the hypocrite with a tooth- 
pick, which he affects to use in the street, though 
he has eat nothing to require that act of cleanli- 
ness : wretched he, I say, whose honor is ever 
apt to be startled, and thinks that everybody at a 
league's distance observes the patch upon his shoe, 
his greasy hat, and his threadbare cloak, and even 
the hunger that consumes him." 

Better a blush on the face than a stain in the 
heart. 

Look not in last year's nests for this year's 
birds. 

A SERENADE. 

And he forthwith imagined that some damsel 
belonging to the duchess had become enamoured of 
him : though somewhat fearful of the beautiful foe, 
he resolved to fortify his heart, and on no account 
to yield ; so, commending himself w T ith fervent de- 
votion to his mistress, Dulcinea del Toboso, he 
determined to listen to the music ; and, to let the 
damsel know he was there, he gave a feigned sneeze, 



Il8 WIT AND WISDOM 

at which they were not a little pleased, as they de- 
sired above all things that he should hear them. 
The harp being now tuned, Altisidora began the 
following song : 

JARVIS'S TRANSLATION. 

Wake, sir knight, now love's invading, 
Sleep in Holland sheets no more ; 

When a nymph is serenading, 
'Tis an arrant shame to snore. 

Hear a damsel tall and tender, 

Moaning in most rueful guise, 
With heart almost burned to cinder 

By the sunbeams of thine eyes. 

To free damsels from disaster 

Is, they say, your daily care : 
Can you then deny a plaster 

To a wounded virgin here ? 



x £> 



Tell me, doughty youth, who cursed thee 
With such humors and ill-luck ? 

Was't some sullen bear dry-nursed thee, 
Or she-dragon gave thee suck ? 

Dulcinea, that virago, 

Well may brag of such a Cid, 
Now her fame is up, and may go 

From Toledo to Madrid. 

Would she but her prize surrender, 
(Judge how on thy face I dote !) 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 1 9 

In exchange I'd gladly send her 
My best gown and petticoat. 

Happy I, would fortune doom me 

But to have me near thy bed, 
Stroke thee, pat thee, currycomb thee, 

And hunt o'er thy knightly head. 

But I ask too much, sincerely, 

And I doubt I ne'er must do't, 
I'd but kiss your toe, and fairly 

Get the length thus of your foot. 

How I'd rig thee, and what riches 
Should be heaped upon thy bones ! 

Caps and socks, and cloaks and breeches, 
Matchless pearls and precious stones. 

Do not from above, like Nero, 

See me burn and slight my woe, 
But to quench my fires, my hero, 

Cast a pitying eye below. 

I'm a virgin-pullet, truly ; 

One more tender ne'er was seen : 
A mere chicken fledged but newly : — 

Hang me if I'm yet fifteen. 

Wind and limb, all's tight about me, 

My hair dangles to my feet ; 
I am straight too : — if you doubt me, 

Trust your eyes, come down and see't. 



120 WIT AND WISDOM 

I've a bob nose has no fellow, 
And a sparrow's mouth as rare : 

Teeth like bright topazes, yellow ; 
Yet I'm deemed a beauty here. 

You know what a rare musician 

(If you hearken) courts your choice -> 

I dare say my disposition 
Is as taking as my voice. 

Here ended the song of the amorous Altisidora, 
and began the alarm of the courted Don Quixote ; 
who, fetching a deep sigh, said within himself: 
"Why am I so unhappy a knight-errant that no 
damsel can see but she must presently fall in love 
with me ? Why is the peerless Dulcinea so un- 
lucky that she must not be suffered singly to enjoy 
this my incomparable constancy ? Queens, what 
would ye have with her ? Empresses, why do ye 
persecute her ? Damsels from fourteen to fifteen, 
why do ye plague her ? Leave, leave the poor 
creature ; let her triumph and glory in the lot which 
love bestowed upon her in the conquest of my 
heart, and the surrender of my soul. Take notice, 
enamoured multitude, that to Dulcinea alone I am 
paste and sugar, and to all others flint. To her 
I am honey, and to the rest of ye, aloes. To me, 
Dulcinea alone is beautiful, discreet, lively, modest, 
and well-born ; all the rest of her sex foul, foolish, 
fickle, and base-born. To be hers, and hers alone, 
nature sent me into the world. Let Altisidora 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 121 

weep or sing, let the lady despair on whose account 
I was buffeted in the castle of the enchanted A'loor \ 
boiled or roasted, Dulcinea's I must be, clean, well- 
bred, and chaste, in spite of all the necromantic 
powers on earth. " 

We see that governors, though otherwise fools, 
are sometimes directed in their decisions by the 
hand of God. 

Time is ever moving ; nothing ever can impede 
his course. 

An understanding in the beo-inning; is often an 
effectual cure for those who are indiscreetly in 
love. 

At eleven o'clock Don Quixote retired to his 
apartment, and finding a lute there, he tuned it, 
opened the window, and, perceiving there was some- 
body walking in the garden, he ran over the strings 
of the instrument ; and, having tuned it again as 
nicely as he could, he coughed and cleared his 
throat , and then, with a voice somewhat hoarse, 
yet not unmusical, he sang the following song, 
which he had composed himself that very day : 

THE ADVICE. 

MATTEAUX's TRANSLATION. 

Love, a strong designing foe, 

Careless hearts with ease deceives -, 

Can thy breast resist his blow, 

Which your sloth unguarded leaves ? 



122 WIT AND WISDOM 

If you're idle, you're destroyed, 
All his art on you he tries ; 

But be watchful and employed, 
Straight the baffled tempter flies. 

Maids for modest grace admired, 
If they would their fortunes raise. 

Must in silence live retired : 

'Tis their virtue speaks their praise. 

The divine Tobosan fair, 
Dulcinea, claims me whole ; 

Nothing can her image tear ; 

'Tis one substance with my soul. 

Then let fortune smile or frown. 
Nothing shall my faith remove ; 

Constant truth, the lover's crown, 
Can work miracles in love. 

THE SAME AS TRANSLATED BY SMOLLETT, 

Love, with idleness combined, 
Will unhinge the tender mind : 
But to few, to work and move, 
Will exclude the' force of love. 
Blooming maids that would be married^ 
Must in virtue be unwearied : 
Modesty a dower will raise, 
And be a trumpet of their praise. 
A cavalier will sport and play 
With a damsel frank and gay j 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 23 

But, when wedlock is his aim, 

Choose a maid of sober fame. 

Passion kindled in the breast, 

By a stranger or a guest, 

Enters w T ith the rising sun, 

And fleets before his race be run : 

Love that comes so suddenly, 

Ever on the wing to fly, 

Neither can nor will impart 

Strong impressions to the heart. 

Pictures drawn on pictures, show 

Strange confusion to the view : 

Second beauty finds no base, 

Where a first has taken place : 

Then Dulcinea still shall reign 

Without a rival or a stain ; 

Nor shall fate itself control 

Her sway, or blot her from my soul : 

Constancy, the lover's boast, 

I'll maintain whate'er it cost : 

This, my virtue will refine \ 

This will stamp my joys divine. 

THE SAME AS TRANSLATED BY JARVIS. 

Love, with idleness is friend, 
O'er a maiden gains its end : 
But let business and employment 
Fill up every careful moment ; 
These an antidote will prove 
'Gainst the pois'nous arts of love. 



124 WIT AND WISDOM 

Maidens that aspire to marry, 
In their looks reserve should carry : 
Modesty their price should raise, 
And be the herald of their praise. 
Knights, whom toils of arms employ, 
With the free may laugh and toy ; 
But the modest only choose 
When they tie the nuptial noose. 
Love that rises with the sun, 
With his setting beams is gone : 
Love that guest-like visits hearts, 
When the banquet's o'er, departs : 
And the love that comes to-day, 
And to-morrow wings its way, 
Leaves no traces on the soul, 
Its affections to control. 
Where a sovereign beauty reigns, 
Fruitless are a rival's pains — 
O'er a finished picture who 
E'er a second picture drew ? 
Fair Dulcinea, queen of beauty, 
Rules my heart, and claims its duty, 
Nothing there can take her place, 
Naught her image can erase. 
Whether fortune smile or frown, 
Constancy's the lover's crown ; 
And, its force divine to prove, 
Miracles performs in love. 

Copious drinking consumes the radical moist- 
ure which is the essence of life. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 25 

Simple medicines are more esteemed than those 
that are compound : in the simple, there can be no 
mistake 5 in the compound, all is hazard and un- 
certainty. 

If we must be prepared for battles that threaten 
us, at least let us be well fed : for the stomach sup- 
ports the heart, and the heart supports the man. 

The devil will never give you a high nose if a 
flat nose will serve your turn. 

All is not gold that glitters. 

Walls have ears. 

I am fully convinced that judges and governors 
are, or ought to be, made of brass, so as that they 
may not feel the importunity of people of business, 
who expect to be heard and dispatched at all hours 
and at all seasons, come what will, attending only 
to their own affairs ; and if the poor devil of a judge 
does not hear and dispatch them, either because it 
is not in his power, or it happens to be an unsea- 
sonable time for giving audience, then they grumble 
and backbite, gnaw him to the very bones, and even 
bespatter his whole generation. Ignorant man of 
business ! foolish man of business ! be not in such a 
violent hurry ; wait for the proper season and con- 
juncture, and come not at meals and sleeping-time \ 
for judges are made of flesh and blood, and must 
give to nature that which mature requires. 



126 WIT AND WISDOM 

Good physicians deserve palms and laurels. 
Either we are, or we are not. 

Let us all live and eat together in harmony and 
good friendship. 

When God sends the morning, the light shines 
upon all. 

Make yourselves honey, and the flies will de- 
vour you. 

Your idle and lazy people in a commonwealth, 
are like drones in a beehive, which only devour the 
honey the laboring bees gather. 

Every day produces something new in the world : 
jests turn into earnest, and the biters are bit. 

They who expect snacks should be modest, and 
take cheerfully whatever is given them, and not 
haggle with the winners ; unless they know them 
to be sharpers, and their gains unfairly gotten. 

Cheats are always at the mercy of their accom- 
plices. 

The maid that would keep her good name, 
stays at home as if she were lame. A hen and a 
housewife, whatever they cost, if once they go gad- 
ding will surely be lost. And she that longs to see, 
I ween, is as desirous to be seen. 

Seeing is believing. 

Good fortune wants only a beginning. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. J 27 

When th^y offer thee a government, lay hold 
of it. 

When an earldom is put before thee, lay thy 
clutches on it. 

When they throw thee some beneficial bone, 
snap at the favor ; if not, sleep on and never an- 
swer to good fortune and preferment when they 
knock at thy door. 

Truth will always rise uppermost, as oil rises 
above water. 

According- to reason, each thins; has its season. 

When justice is doubtful, I should lean to the 
side of mercv. 

Sancho, having plentifully dined that day, in 
spite of all the aphorisms of Dr. Tirteafuera, when 
the cloth was removed, in came an express with a 
letter from Don Quixote to the governor. Sancho 
ordered the secretary to read it to himself, and if 
there was nothing in it for secret perusal, then to 
read it aloud. The secretary, having first run it 
over accordingly, u My lord," said he, " the letter 
may not only be publicly read, but deserves to be 
engraved in characters of gold ; and thus it is : " 

Don Quixote de la Mancha to Sancho Panza, Gov- 
ernor of the Island of Barataria. 

" When I expected to have had an account of 
thy carelessness and blunders, friend Sancho, I was 



128 WIT AND WISDOM 

agreeably disappointed with news of thy wise be- 
havior ; for which I return thanks to Heaven, that 
can raise the lowest from their poverty, and turn 
the fool into a man of sense. I hear thou governest 
with all discretion ; and that, nevertheless, thou 
retainest the humility of the meanest creature. But 
I would observe to thee, Sancho, that it is often 
expedient and necessary, for the due support of 
authority, to act in contradiction to the humility 
of the heart. The personal adornments of one that 
is raised to a high situation must correspond with 
his present greatness, and not with his former low- 
liness : let thy apparel, therefore, be good and be- 
coming ; for the hedgestake, when decorated no 
longer, appears what it really is. I do not mean 
that thou shouldst wear jewels, or finery ; nor, being 
a judge, would I have thee dress like a soldier ; but 
adorn thyself in a manner suitable to thy employ- 
ment. To gain the good-will of thy people, two 
things, among others, thou must not fail to ob- 
serve : one is, to be courteous to all — that, indeed, 
I have already told thee ; the other is, to take 
especial care that the people be exposed to no 
scarcity of food ; for, with the poor, hunger is, 
of all afflictions, the most insupportable. Publish 
few edicts, but let those be good ; and, above all, 
see that they are well observed ; for edicts that are 
not kept are the same as not made, and serve only 
to show that the prince, though he had wisdom and 
authority to make them, had not the courage to 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I 29 

insist upon their execution. Laws that threaten, 
and are not enforced, become like King Log, whose 
croaking subjects first feared, then despised him. 
Be a^ father to virtue, and a step-father to vice. Be 
not always severe, nor always mild ; but choose the 
happy mean between them, which is the true point 
of discretion. Visit the prisons, the shambles, and 
the markets ; for there the presence of the governor 
is highly necessary : such attention is a comfort to 
the prisoner hoping for release -, it is a terror to the 
butchers, who then dare not make use of false 
weights ; and the same effect is produced on all 
other dealers. Shouldst thou unhappily be secretly 
inclined to avarice, to gluttony, or women, w T hich I 
hope thou art not, avoid showing thyself guilty of 
these vices : for, when those who are concerned 
with thee discover thy ruling passion, they will 
assault thee on that quarter, nor leave thee till they 
have effected thy destruction. View and review, 
consider and reconsider, the counsels and docu- 
ments I gave thee in writing before thy departure 
hence to thy ■ government ; and in them thou wilt 
find a choice supply to sustain thee through the toils 
and difficulties which governors must continually 
encounter. Write to thy patrons, the duke and 
duchess, and show thyself grateful ; for ingratitude 
is the daughter of pride, and one of the greatest 
sins ; whereas he who is grateful to those that 
have done him service, thereby testifies that he will 
be grateful also to God, his constant benefactor. 



I30 WIT AND WISDOM 

" My lady duchess has dispatched a messenger 
to thy wife Teresa with thy hunting-suit, and also 
a present from herself. We expect an answer every 
moment. I have been a little out of order with a 
certain cat-clawing which befell me, not much to 
the advantage of my nose ; but it was nothing ; for, 
if there are enchanters who persecute me, there are 
others who defend me. Let me know if the stew- 
ard who is with thee had any hand in the actions 
of the Trifaldi, as thou hast suspected: and give 
me advice, from time to time, of all that happens 
to thee, since the distance between us is so short. 
I think of quitting this idle life very soon ; for I 
was not born for luxury and ease. A circumstance 
has occurred which may, I believe, tend to deprive 
me of the favor of the duke and duchess ; but, 
though it afflicts me much, it affects not my deter- 
mination, for I must comply with the duties of my 
profession in preference to any other claim ; as it is 
often said, Amicus Plato, sed magis arnica Veritas, I 
write this in Latin, being persuaded that thou hast 
learned that language since thy promotion. Fare- 
well, and God have thee in His keeping : so mayst 
thou escape the pity of the world. 
" Thy friend, 

Don Quixote de la Mancha." 

Sancho gave great attention to the letter ; and 
it was highly applauded, both for sense and integ- 
rity, by everybody that heard it. After that, he 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I3I 

rose from table, and calling the secretary, went 
without any further delay, and locked himself up 
with him in his chamber, to write an answer to his 
master, Don Quixote, which was as follows : 

Sancho Panza to Don Shdxote de la Mancha. 

" I am so taken up with business that I have 
not yet had time to let you know whether it goes 
well or ill with me in this same government, where 
I am more hunger-starved than when you and I 
wandered through woods and wildernesses. 

" My lord duke wrote to me the other day to 
inform me of some spies that were got into this 
island to kill me \ but as yet I have discovered 
none but a certain doctor, hired by the islanders to 
kill all the governors that come near it. They call 
him Dr. Pedro Rezio de Anguero, and he was born 
at Tirteafuera. His name is enough to make me 
fear he will be the death of me. This same doctor 
says of himself, that he does cure diseases when you 
have them ; but when you have them not, he only 
pretends to keep them from coming. The physic 
he uses, is fasting upon fasting, till he turns a body 
to a mere skeleton ; as if to be wasted to skin and 
bones were not as bad as a fever. In short, he 
starves me to death ; so that, when I thought, as 
being a governor, to have plenty of good hot vict- 
uals and cool liquor, and to repose on a soft feather- 
bed, I am come to do penance like a hermit. 

" I have not yet so much as fingered the least 



132 WIT AND WISDOM 

penny of money, either for fees or any thing else ; 
and how it comes to be no better with me I cannot 
imagine, for I have heard that the governors who 
come to this island are wont to have a very good 
gift, or at least a very round sum given them by the 
town before they enter. And they say, too, that this 
is the usual custom, not only here, but in other places. 

" Last night, in going my rounds, I met with a 
mighty handsome damsel in boy's clothes, and a 
brother of hers in woman's apparel. My gentle- 
man-waiter fell in love with the girl, and intends to 
make her his wife, as he says. As for the youth, I 
have pitched on him to be my son-in-law. To-day 
we both design to talk to the father, one Diego de 
la Liana, who is a gentleman, and an old Christian 
every inch of him. 

" I visit the markets as you advised me, and 
yesterday found one of the hucksters selling hazel- 
nuts. She pretended they were all new ; but I 
found she had mixed a whole bushel of old, empty, 
rotten nuts among the same quantity of new. With 
that, I adjudged them to be given to the hospital 
boys, who know how to pick the good from the 
bad, and gave sentence against her that she should 
not come into the market for fifteen days ; and 
people said I did well. 

" I am mighty well pleased that my lady duchess 
has written to my wife, Teresa Panza, and sent her 
the token you mention. It shall go hard but I will 
requite her kindness one time or other. Pray give 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 33 

my service to her ; and tell her from me, she has 
not cast her gift in a broken sack, as something 
more than words shall show. 

" If I might advise you, and had my wish, there 
should be no falling out between your worship and 
my lord and lady ; for, if you quarrel with them, it 
is I must come by the worst for it. And, since you 
mind me of being grateful, it will not look well in 
you not to be so to those who have made so much 
of you at their castle. 

" If my wife, Teresa Panza, writes to me, pray 
pay the postage and send me the letter ; for I have 
a mighty desire to know how fares it with her, and 
my house and children. So Heaven protect your 
worship from evil-minded enchanters, and bring me 
safe and sound out of this government ; which I 
very much doubt, seeing how I am treated by Doc- 
tor Pedro Rezio. 

u Your worship's servant, 

" Sancho Panza, the Governor." 

Teresa Panza' r s Letter to her Husband^ Sancho Panza. 

" I received thy letter, dear Sancho of my soul, 
and I promise and swear to thee, on the faith of a 
Catholic Christian, I was within two finger-breadths 
of running mad with joy ; and take notice, brother, 
when I heard thou wast a governor, I had like to 
have dropped down dead with pure pleasure ; for 
thou knowest they say sudden joy kills as well as 
deadly sorrow : thy daughter Sanchica scattered her 



134 WIT AND WISDOM 

water about insensibly, out of mere satisfaction ; 
thy hunting-suit lay before me, the string of corals 
sent by lady duchess was tied round my neck, the 
letters were in my hand, and the messenger in my 
presence ; and yet, I imagined and believed, that 
all I saw and handled was a dream ; for who could 
conceive that a goatherd should come to be gov- 
ernor of islands ? Thou knowest, my friend, that 
my mother said, ' One must live long to see a great 
deal : ' this I mention because I hope to see more 
if I live longer ; for I do not intend to stop until 
I see thee a farmer or collector of the revenue : 
offices which, though they carry those who abuse 
them to the devil, are, in short, always bringing in 
the penny. 

" My lady duchess will tell thee how desirous 1 
am of going to court : consider of it, and let me 
know thy pleasure ; for I will endeavor to do thee 
honor there by riding in my coach. 

" The curate, barber, bachelor, and even the 
sexton, cannot believe thou art a governor, and say 
the whole is a deception, or matter of enchantment, 
like all the affairs of thy master, Don Quixote. 
Sampson vows he will go in quest of thee, and 
drive this government out of thy head, as well as 
the madness out of Don Quixote's skull : I say 
nothing, but laugh in my own sleeve, look at my 
beads, and contrive how to make thy hunting-suit 
into a gown and petticoat for our daughter. I have 
sent some acorns to my lady duchess, and I wish 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I35 

they were of gold : send me some strings of pearls, 
if they are in fashion in thy island. The news of 
our town are these : the widow of the hill has 
matched her daughter with a bungling painter, who 
came here and undertook all sort of work. The 
corporation employed him to paint the king's arms 
over the gate of the town-house. He asked them 
two ducats for the job, which they paid before- 
hand ; so he fell to it and worked eight days, at 
the end of which he had made nothing of it, and 
said he could not bring his hand to paint such 
trumpery, and returned the money ; yet, for all 
that, he married in the name of a good workman. 
The truth is, he has left his brushes and taken up 
the spade, and goes to the field like a gentleman. 
Pedro de Lobo's son has taken orders and shaved 
his crown, meaning to be a priest. Minguilla, 
Mingo Silvato's niece, hearing of it, is suing him 
upon a promise of marriage. We have had no olives 
this year, nor is there a drop of vinegar to be had 
in all the town. A company of foot-soldiers passed 
through here, and carried off with them three girls 
—I v/ill not say who they are ; mayhap they will 
return, and somebody or other marry them, with all 
their faults. Sanchica makes bone-lace, and gets 
eight maravedis a day, which she drops into a 
saving-box, to help her toward household stuff; 
but now that she is a governor's daughter, she has 
no need to work, for thou wilt give her a portion 
without it. The fountain in our market-place is 



136 WIT AND WISDOM 

dried up. A thunderbolt fell upon the pillory, and 
there may they all alight ! I expect an answer to 
this, and about my going to court. And so God 
grant thee more years than myself, or as many, for 
I would not willingly leave thee behind me. 
" Thy wife, 

" Teresa Panza." 

To think that the affairs of this life are always 
to remain in the same state is an erroneous fancy. 
The face of things rather seems continually to change 
and roll with circular motion ; summer succeeds the 
spring, autumn the summer, winter the autumn, and 
then spring again. So time proceeds in this per- 
petual round ; only the life of man is ever hastening 
to its end, swifter than time itself, without hopes to 
be renewed, unless in the next, that is unlimited and 
infinite. For even by the light of nature, and with- 
out that of faith, many have discovered the swift- 
ness and instability of this present being, and the 
duration of the eternal life which is expected. 

" I know St. Peter is well at Rome," meaning 
every one does well to follow the employment to 
which he was bred. 

Let no one stretch his feet beyond the length 
of his sheet. 

When thou art in Rome follow the fashions of 
Rome. 

Sweet is our love of native land. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 37 

The prudent man who is expecting to be de- 
prived of his habitation looks out for another before 
he is turned cut of doors. 

Well-got wealth may meet disaster, 
But ill-got wealth destroys its master. 

• Bread is relief for all kind of grief. 

We can bear with patience the ill-luck that 
comes alone. 

Man projects in vain, 
For God doth still ordain. 

As is the reason, 
Such is the season. 

Let no man presume to think, 
Of this cup I will not drink : 
Where the flitch we hoped to find, 
Not even a hook is left behind. 

Keep a safe conscience, and let people say what 
they will. 

It is as impracticable to tie up the tongue of 
malice, as to erect barricades in the open fields. 

" If a governor resign his ofEce in good circum- 
stances, people say he must have been an oppressor 
and a knave ; and if poverty attends him in his re- 
treat, they set him down as an idiot and fool." 
" For this time," answered Sancho, " I am certain 
they will think me more fool than knave." 



I38 WIT AND WISDOM 

A law neglected is the same as if it had never 
been enacted. 

Give always to the cat 
What was kept for the rat, 
And let it be thy view 
All mischief to eschew. 

It is fitting that all who receive a benefit should 
show themselves grateful, though it be only a trifle. 

SONG OF ALTISIDORA. 

Stay, cruel knight, 

Take not thy flight, 
Nor spur thy battered jade ; 

Thy haste restrain, 

Draw in the rein, 
And hear a love-sick maid. 

Why dost thou fly ? 

No snake am I, 
That poison those I love : 

Gentle I am 

As any lamb, 
And harmless as a dove. 

Thy cruel scorn 

Has left forlorn 
A nymph whose charms may vie 

With theirs who sport 

In Cynthia's court, 
Though Venus' self were by. 
Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee, 
Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee ! 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 39 

Like ravenous kite 

That takes its flight 
Soon as't has stol'n a chicken, 

Thou bear' st away 

My heart, thy prey, 
And leav'st me here to sicken. 

Three night-caps, too, 

And garters blue, 
That did to legs belong 

Smooth to the sight 

As marble white, 
And faith, almost as strong. 

Two thousand groans, 

As many moans, 
And sighs enough to fire 

Old Priam's town, 

And burn it down, 
Did it again aspire. 
Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose 1 woo thee, 
Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee ! 

May Sancho ne'er 

His buttocks bare 
Fly-flap, as is his duty ; 

And thou still want 

To disenchant 
Dulcinea's injured beauty. 

May still transformed, 

And still deformed, 
Toboso's nymph remain, 



140 WIT AND WISDOM 

In recompense 

Of thy offence, 
Thy scorn and cold disdain. 

When thou dost wield 

Thy sword in field, 
In combat, or in quarrel, 

Ill-luck and harms 

Attend thy arms, 
Instead of fame and laurel. 
Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee, 
Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee ! 

May thy disgrace 

Fill every place, 
Thy falsehood ne'er be hid, 

But round the world 

Be tossed and hurled, 
From Seville to Madrid. 

If, brisk and gay, 

Thou sitt'st to play 
At ombre or at chess, 

May ne'er spadille 

Attend thy will, 
Nor luck thy movements bless. 

Though thou with care 

Thy corns dost pare, 
May blood the penknife follow ; 

May thy gums rage, 

And naught assuage 
The pain of tooth that's hollow. 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 141 

« 

Since, fugitive knight, to no purpose I woo thee, 
Barabbas's fate still pursue and undo thee ! 

Liberty is one of the most precious gifts which 
Heaven hath bestowed on man, exceeding all the 
treasures which earth encloses, or which ocean hides ; 
and for this blessing, as well as for honor, we may 
and ought to venture life itself: on the other hand, 
captivity and restraint are the greatest evils that 
human nature can endure. I make this observa- 
tion, San'cho, because thou hast seen the delicacies 
and the plenty with which we were entertained in 
that castle ; yet, in the midst of those savory ban- 
quets and ice-cooled potations, I thought myself 
confined within the very straits of famine, because 
I did not enjoy the treat with that liberty which I 
should have felt, had it been my own. 

Obligations incurred by benefits and favors re- 
ceived, are fetters which hamper the free-born soul. 

Happy is he to whom Heaven hath sent a mor- 
sel of bread, for which he is obliged to none but 
Heaven itself. 

The man in wisdom must be old 
Who knows in giving where to hold. 

All times are not the same, nor equally fortu- 
nate ; and those incidents which the vulgar call 
omens, though not founded on any natural reason, 
have, even by persons of sagacity, been held and 



142 WIT AND WISDOM 

deemed as fair and fortunate. One of these super- 
stitious omen-mongers rises in the morning, goes 
abroad, chances to meet a friar belonging to the 
beatified St. Francis ; and as if he had encountered 
a dragon in his way, runs back to his own house 
with fear and consternation. Another Foresight 
by accident scatters the salt upon the table, by 
which fear and melancholy are scattered through 
his heart ; as if Nature was obliged to foretell future 
misfortunes by such trivial signs and tokens : where- 
as a prudent man and a good Christian will not so 
minutely scrutinize the purposes of Heaven. Scipio, 
chancing to fall in landing upon the coast of Afric, 
and perceiving that his soldiers looked upon this 
accident as a bad omen, he embraced the soil with 
seeming eagerness, saying, " Thou shalt not 'scape 
me, Afric ; for I have thee safe in my arms." 

Love has no respect of persons, and laughs at 
the admonitions of reason ; like Death, he pursues 
his game both in the stately palaces of kings and 
the humble huts of shepherds. When he has got 
a soul fairly in his clutches, his first business is to 
deprive it of all shame and fear. 

Beauty, they say, is the chief thing in love-mat- 
ters. 

" Hearken to me, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; 
" there are two kinds of beauty— the one of the 
mind, the other of the body. That of the mind 
shines forth in good sense and good conduct ; in 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I43 

modesty, liberality, and courtesy ; and all these 
qualities may be found in one who has no per- 
sonal attractions ; and when that species of beauty 
captivates, it produces a vehement and superior 
passion. I well know, Sancho, that I am not hand- 
some ; but I know also that I am not deformed ; 
and a man of worth, if he be not hideous, may in- 
spire love, provided he has those qualities of the 
mind which I have mentioned." 

Of all the sins that men commit, though some 
say pride, in my opinion, ingratitude is the worst ; 
it is truly said that hell is full of the ungrateful. 
From that foul crime I have endeavored to abstain 
ever since I enjoyed the use of reason ; and if I 
cannot return the good offices done me by equal 
benefits, I substitute my desire to repay them \ and 
if this be not enough, I publish them : for he who 
proclaims the favors he has received, would return 
them if he could : and generally the power of the 
receiver is unequal to that of the giver : like the 
bounty of Heaven, to which no man can make an 
equal return. But, though utterly unable to repay 
the unspeakable beneficence of God, gratitude af- 
fords a humble compensation suited to our limited 
powers. 

Lay a bridge of silver for a flying enemy. 

Let Martha die, so that she be well fed. 

He that has skill should handle the quill. 



144 WIT AND WISDOM 

There is no greater folly than to give way to 
despair. 

Patience often falls to the ground when it is 
overloaded with injuries. 

Alexander the Great ventured to cut the Gordian 
knot, on the supposition that cutting would be as 
effectual as untying it : and, notwithstanding this 
violence, became sole master of all Asia. 

u Be not concerned," said Roque, addressing 
himself to Don Quixote, " nor tax Fortune with 
unkindness ; by thus stumbling, you may chance 
to stand more firmly than ever : for Heaven, by 
strange and circuitous ways, incomprehensible to 
men, is wont to raise the fallen, and enrich the 
needy." 

Oh, maddening sting of jealousy, how deadly 
thy effects ! 

Justice must needs be a good thing, for it is 
necessary even among thieves. 

" Signor Roque," said he, u the beginning of a 
cure consists in the knowledge of the distemper, 
and in the patient's willingness to take the medi- 
cines prescribed to him by his physician. You are 
sick ; you know your malady, and God, our physi- 
cian, is ready with medicines that, in time, will cer- 
tainly effect a cure. Eesides, sinners of good un- 
derstanding are nearer to amendment than those 



OF DON QUIXOTE. I45 

who are devoid of it ; and, as your superior sense 
is manifest, be of good cheer, and hope for your 
entire recovery. If in this desirable work you 
would take the shortest way, and at once enter 
that of your salvation, come with me, and I will 
teach you to be a knight-errant — a profession, it is 
true, full of labors and disasters, but which, being 
placed to the account of penance, will not fail to 
lead you to honor and felicity." 

The abbot must eat that sings for his meat. 

Courtesy begets courtesy. 

The jest that gives pain is no jest. 

That pastime should not be indulged which 
tends to the detriment of a fellow-creature. 

The fire is discovered by its own light ; so is 
virtue by its own excellence. 

No renown equals in splendor that which is 
acquired by the profession of arms. 

Virtue demands our homage wherever it is 
found. 

Women are commonly impatient and inquisi- 
tive. 

By a man's actions may be seen the true dispo- 
sition of his mind. 

" Body of me," said Don Quixote, " what a 



I46 WIT AND WISDOM 

progress you have made, signor, in the Tuscan lan- 
guage ! I would venture a good wager that where 
the Tuscan says place, you say, in Castilian, plaze ; 
and where he says piu, you say mas 1 and sit you 
translate by the word arriba ; and giu by abaxo." 

" I do so, most certainly," quoth the author ; 
" for such are the corresponding words." 

" And yet, I dare say, sir," quoth Don Quix- 
ote, " that you are scarcely known in the world — 
but it is the fate of all ingenious men. What abili- 
ties are lost, what genius obscured, and what talents 
despised ! Nevertheless, I cannot but think that 
translation from one language into another, unless 
it be from the noblest of all languages, Greek and 
Latin, is like presenting the back of a piece of 
tapestry, where, though the figures are seen, they 
are obscured by innumerable knots and ends of 
thread ; very different from the smooth and agree- 
able texture of the proper face of the work ; and to 
translate easy languages of a similar construction 
requires no more talent than transcribing one paper 
from another. But I would not hence infer that 
translating is not a laudable exercise : for a man 
may be worse and more unprofitably employed. 
Nor can my observation apply to the two cele- 
brated translators, Doctor Christopher de Figueroa, 
in his c Pastor Fido,' and Don John de Xaurigui, 
in his c Aminta;' who, with singular felicity, have 
made it difficult to decide which is the translation 
and which is the original. But tell me, signor, is 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 147 

this book printed at your charge, or have you sold 
the copyright to some bookseller ? " 

" I print it, sir, on my own account," answered 
the author,. " and expect a thousand ducats by this 
first impression of two thousand copies ; at six reals 
each copy they will go off in a trice." 

" 'Tis mighty well," quoth Don Quixote ; 
" though I fear you know but little of the tricks 
of booksellers, and the juggling there is amongst 
them. Take my word for it 5 you will find a bur- 
den of two thousand volumes upon your back no 
trifling matter — especially if the book be deficient 
in sprightliness." 

" What, sir ! " cried the author, u would you 
have me give my labor to a bookseller, w T ho, if he 
paid me three maravedis for it, would think it 
abundant, and say I was favored ? No, sir, fame 
is not my object : of that I am already secure ; 
profit is what I now seek, without which fame is 
nothing." 

" Well, Heaven prosper you, sir ! " said the 
knight, who, passing on, observed a man correct- 
ing a sheet of a book entitled " The Light of the 
Soul." On seeing the title, he said, " Books of 
this kind, numerous as they already are, ought still 
to be encouraged ; for numerous are the benighted 
sinners that require to be enlightened." He went 
forward and saw another book under the corrector's 
hand, and, on inquiring the title, they told him it 
was the second part of the ingenious gentleman 



I48 WIT AND WISDOM 

Don Quixote de la Mancha, written by such a one, 
of Tordesillas. " I know something of that book/' 
quoth Don Quixote ; " and, on my conscience, I 
thought it had been burnt long before now for its 
stupidity ; but its Martinmas will come, as it does 
to every hog. Works of invention are only so far 
good as they come near to truth and probability : 
as general history is valuable in proportion as it is 
authentic." 

Rashness is not valor : doubtful hopes ought to 
make men resolute, not rash. 

There is a remedy for all things except death. 

Between said and done 
A long race may be run. 

He whom Heaven favors, may St. Peter bless. 

They that give must take. 

Where there are hooks, we do not always find 
bacon. 

Good expectation is better than bad possession. 

To-day for you, and to-morrow for me. 

He that falls to day may rise to-morrow. 

Great hearts should be patient under misfor- 
tunes as well as joyful when all goes well. 

I have heard say, she they call Fortune is a 
drunken, freakish dame, and withal so blind that 



of don qyixoTE. 149 

she does not see what she is about ; neither whom 
she raises, nor whom she pulls down. 

One thing I must tell thee, there is no such 
thing in the world as fortune ; nor do the events 
which fall out, whether good or evil, proceed from 
chance, but from the particular appointment of 
Heaven — and hence comes the usual saying, that 
every man is the maker of his own fortune. 

The faults of the ass should not be laid on the 
pack-saddle. 

When it rains, let the shower fail upon my 
cloak. 

" Observe, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " there 
is a great deal of difference between love and grati- 
tude. It is very possible for a gentleman not to be 
in love ; but, strictly speaking, it is impossible he 
should be ungrateful/' 

The sin will cease when the temptation is re- 
moved. 

The heart will not grieve for what the eye doth 
not perceive. 

What prayers can ne'er gain, a leap from a 
hedge may obtain. 

Proverbs are short maxims of human wisdom, 
the result of experience and observation, and are 
the gifts of ancient sages : yet the proverb which is 



150 WIT AND WISDOM 

not aptly applied, instead of being wisdom, is stark 
nonsense. 

It is the part of a good servant to sympathize 
with his master's pains. 

" Methinks," quoth Sancho, " that a man can- 
not be suffering much when he can turn his brain 
to verse-making." 

' SANCHO PANZA ON SLEEP. 

" No entiendo eso," replico Sancho ; " solo 
entiendo que en tanto que duermo, ni tengo temor, 
ni esperanza, ni trabajo, ni gloria ; y bien haya el 
que invento el sueno, capa que cubre todos los hu- 
manos pensamientos, manjar que quita la hambre, 
agua que ahuyenta la sed, fuego que calienta el frio, 
frio que templa el ardor, y finalrnente moneda gene- 
ral con que todas las cosas se compran, balanza y 
peso que iguala al pastor con el rey, y al simple con 
el discreto. Sola una cosa tiene mala el sueno, 
segun he oido decir, y es que se parece a la muerte, 
pues de un dormido a un muerto hay muy poca 
diferencia." 

" I know not what that means," replied Sancho ; 
" I only know that while I am asleep, I have neither 
fear, nor hope, nor trouble, nor glory. Blessings 
light on him who first invented sleep ! Sleep is 
the mantle that shrouds all human thoughts; the 
food that dispels hunger ; the drink that quenches 
thirst ; the fire that warms the cold \ the cool 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 151 

breeze that moderates heat ; in a word, the general 
coin that purchases every commodity ; the weight 
and balance that makes the shepherd even with his 
sovereign, and the simple with the sage. There is 
only one bad circumstance, as I have heard, in 
sleep : it resembles death ; inasmuch as between a 
dead corse and a sleeping man there is no apparent 
difference. " 

" Enjoy thy repose," said Don Quixote ; " thou 
wast born to sleep and I to watch ; and, during the 
little of night that remains, I will give my thoughts 
the rein, and cool the furnace of my reflections 
with a short madrigal, which I have this evening, 
unknown to thee, composed in my own mind." 

Amor, cuando yo pienso 
En el mal que me das terrible y fuerte, 
Voy corriendo a la muerte, 
Pensando asi acabar mi mal inmenso : 

Mas en Uegando al paso, 
Que es puerto en este mar de mi tormento, 
Tanta alegria siento. 
Que la vida se esfuerza, y no le paso. 

Asi el vivir me mata, 
Que la muerte me torna a dar la vida. 
j O condicion no oida, 
La que conmigo muerte y vida trata ! 

O love, when, sick of heart-felt grief, 
I sigh, and drag thy cruel chain, 



152 WIT AND WISDOM 

To death I fly, the sure relief 

Of those who groan in lingering pain. 

But coming to the fatal gates, 
The port in this my sea of woe, 

The joy I feel new life creates, 
And bids my spirits brisker flow. 

Thus dying every hour I live, 

And living I resign my breath : 
Strange power of love, that thus can give 

A dying life and living death ! 

Till Heaven in pity to the weeping world, 

Shall give Altisidora back to day, 
By Quixote's scorn to realms of Pluto hurled, 

Her every charm to cruel death a prey ; 

While matrons throw their gorgeous robes 
away, 
To mourn a nymph by cold disdain betrayed : 

To the complaining lyre's enchanting lay 
I'll sing the praises of this hapless maid, 
In sweeter notes than Thracian Orpheus ever played. 

Nor shall my numbers with my life expire, 

Or this world's light confine the boundless 
song : 
To thee, bright maid, in death I'll touch the 
lyre, 
And to my soul the theme shall still belong. 
When, freed from clay, the flitting ghosts 
among, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 153 

My spirit glides the Stygian shores around, 

Though the cold hand of death has sealed my 
tongue, 
Thy praise the infernal caverns shall rebound, 
And Lethe's sluggish waves move slower to the 
sound. 

Better kill me outright than break my back 
with other men's burdens. 

Sleep is the best cure for waking troubles. 

Devils, play or not play, win or not win, can 
never be content. 

History that is good, faithful, and true, will sur- 
vive for ages ; but should it have none of these 
qualities, its passage will be short between the cra- 
dle and the grave. 

As for dying for love it is all a jest ; your lovers, 
indeed, may easily say they are dying, but that they 
will actually give up the ghost — believe it— Judas. 

" Madam," said he, " your ladyship should know 
that the chief cause of this good damsel's suffering 
is idleness, the remedy whereof is honest and con- 
stant employment. Lace, she tells me, is much 
worn in purgatory ; and since she cannot but know 
how to make it, let her stick to that ; for, while her 
fingers are assiduously employed with her bobbins, 
the images that now haunt her imagination will 



154 WIT AND wisdom 

keep aloof, and leave her mind tranquil and happy. 
This, madam, is my opinion and advice." 

" And mine, too," added Sancho, " for I never 
in my life heard of a lacemaker that died for love ; 
for your damsels that bestir themselves at some 
honest labor, think more of their work than of their 
sweethearts. I know it by myself; when I am 
digging, I never think of my Teresa, though, God 
bless her ! I love her more than my very eyelids." 

Railing among lovers is the next neighbor to 
forgiveness. 

The ass will carry the load, but not a double 
load. 

When money's paid before it's due, 
A broken limb will straight ensue. 

Delay breeds danger. 

Pray to God devoutly, 
And hammer away stoutly. 

" I will give thee," is good; but "Here, take 
it," is better. 

A sparrow in the hand is worth an eagle on the 
wing. 

" No more proverbs, for God's sake," quoth 
Don Quixote; " for, methinks, Sancho, thou art 
losing ground, and returning to Sicut erat. Speak 
plainly, as I have often told thee, and thou wilt find 
it worth a loaf per cent, to thee." 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 155 

" I know not how I came by this unlucky trick/' 
replied Sancho ; " I cannot bring you in three words 
to the purpose without a proverb, nor give you a 
proverb which, to my thinking, is not to the pur- 
pose — but I will try to mend." 

The straw is too hard to make pipes of. 

The knight and squire ascended a little emi- 
nence, whence they discovered their village ; which 
Sancho no sooner beheld than, kneeling down, he 
said : " Open thine eyes, O my beloved country ! 
and behold thy son, Sancho Panza, returning to thee 
again, if not rich, yet well whipped ! Open thine 
arms, and receive thy son Don Quixote too ! who, 
though worsted by another, has conquered himself, 
which, as I have heard say, is the best kind of vic- 
tory ! Money I have gotten, and though I have 
been soundly banged, I have come off like a gentle- 
man." 

" Leave these fooleries, Sancho," quoth Don 
Quixote, "and let us go directly to our homes, 
where we will give full scope to our imagination, 
and settle our intended scheme of a pastoral life." 

It must here be mentioned that Sancho Panza, 
by way of sumpter-cloth, had thrown the buckram 
robe painted with flames, which he had worn on the 
night of Altisidora's revival, upon his ass. He like- 
wise clapped the mitre on Dapple's head — in short, 
never was an ass so honored and bedizened. The 
priest and bachelor, immediately recognizing their 



I56 WIT AND WISDOM 

friends, ran toward them with open arms. Don 
Quixote alighted, and embraced them cordially. In 
the mean time, the boys, whose keen eyes nothing 
can escape, came flocking from all parts. 

" Ho ! " cries one, " here comes Sancho Panza's 
ass, as gay as a parrot, and Don Quixote's old horse, 
leaner than ever ! " 

Thus, surrounded by the children, and accom- 
panied by the priest and the bachelor, they pro- 
ceeded through the village till they arrived at Don 
Quixote's house, where, at the door, they found the 
housekeeper and the niece, who had already heard 
of his arrival. It had likewise reached the ears of 
Sancho's wife, Teresa, who, half-naked, with her 
hair about her ears, and dragging Sanchica after her, 
ran to meet her husband ; and seeing him not so 
well equipped as she thought a governor ought to 
be, she said : " What makes you come thus, dear 
husband ? methinks you come afoot and foundered ! 
This, I trow, is not as a governor should look." 

" Peace, wife," quoth Sancho ; " the bacon is 
not so easily found as the pin to hang it on. Let 
us go home, and there you shall hear wonders. I 
have got money, and honestly, too, without wrong- 
ing anybody." 

" Hast thou got money, good husband ? — nay, 
then, 'tis well, however it be gotten, for, well or 
ill, it will have brought up no new custom in the 
world." 

All things human, especially the lives of men, 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 157 

are transitory, ever advancing from their beginning 
to their decline and final determination. 

" The greatest folly," said Sancho, " that a man 
can commit in this world, is to give himself up to 
death without any good cause for it, but only from 
melancholy." 

THE WILL OF DON QUIXOTE. 

" I feel, good sirs," said Don Quixote, " that 
death advances fast upon me ; let us then be 
serious, and bring me a confessor, and a notary 
to draw up my will : for a man in my state must 
not trifle with his soul. Let the notary be sent 
for, I beseech you, while my friend here, the priest, 
is taking my confession." 

The priest, having listened to his dying friend's 
confession, came out of the room, and told them 
that the good Alonzo Quixano was near his end, 
and certainly in his right senses ; he therefore ad- 
vised them to go in, as it was full time that his will 
should be made. These tidings gave a terrible stab 
to the overcharged hearts of the two ladies and his 
faithful squire, whose eyes overflowed with weep- 
ing, and whose bosoms had well-nigh burst with a 
thousand sighs and groans ; for, indeed, it must be 
owned, as we have somewhere observed, that whether 
in the character of Alonzo Quixano the good, or in 
the capacity of Don Quixote de la Alancha, the poor 
gentleman had always exhibited marks of a peace- 
able temper and agreeable demeanor, for which he 



158 WIT AND WISDOM 

was beloved, not only by his own family, but also 
by all those who had the pleasure of his acquaint- 
ance. 

The notary entering the apartment with the 
rest of the company, wrote the preamble of the 
will, in which Don Quixote disposed of his soul in 
all the necessary Christian forms \ then proceeding 
to the legacies, he said : 

" Item : Whereas, Sancho Panza, whom, in my 
madness, I made my squire, has in his hands a cer- 
tain sum of money for my use ; and, as divers ac- 
counts, disbursements, and pecuniary transactions 
have passed between us, it is my will that he shall 
not be charged or brought to account for the said 
money ; but, if there be any overplus, after he has 
deducted the payment of what I owe him, the said 
overplus, which must be a mere trifle, shall be his 
own, and much good may it do him : and as, dur- 
ing my disorder, I contributed to his being made 
governor of an island, I would now, while I enjoy 
my perfect senses, confer upon him, were it in my 
power, a whole kingdom, which he richly deserves 
for the innocency of his heart, and the fidelity of 
his service." 

Then turning to the disconsolate squire, " For- 
give me, friend," said he, " for having been the 
cause of thy appearing in the eye of the world a 
madman, like myself; by drawing thee into my 
own erroneous notions concerning the existence and 
adventures of knights-errant." 



OF DON QUIXOTE. 1 59 

" Gentlemen," said Don Quixote, " let us pro- 
ceed fair and softly : I was mad, I am now sane ; 
I was Don Quixote de la Mancha ; I am now, as 
formerly styled, Alonzo Quixano the Good. And 
may my repentance and sincerity restore me to the 
esteem you once had for me. Now let the notary 
proceed. 

" Item : I bequeath to Antonia Quixano, my 
niece, here present, all my estate, real and per- 
sonal, after the payment of all my debts and lega- 
cies ; and the first to be discharged shall be the 
wages due to my housekeeper for the time she has 
been in my service, and twenty ducats besides for a 
suit of mourning. 

" I appoint for my executors signor the priest 
and signor bachelor Sampson Carrasco, here pres- 
ent. 

" Item : It is also my will that, if Antonia 
Quixano, my niece, should be inclined to marry, it 
shall be only with a man who, upon the strictest 
inquiry, shall be found to know nothing of books 
of chivalry ; and, in case it appear that he is ac- 
quainted with such books, and that my niece, not- 
withstanding, will and doth marry him, then shall 
she forfeit all I have bequeathed her, which my ex- 
ecutors may dispose of in pious uses as they think 
proper. 

"And, finally, I beseech the said gentlemen, 
my executors, that if haply they should come to the 
knowledge of the author of a certain history dis- 



l60 WIT AND WISDOM 

persed abroad, entitled c The Second Part of the 
Achievements of Don Quixote de la Mancha,' that 
they will, in my name, most earnestly entreat him 
to forgive me for having been the innocent cause 
of his writing such a number of absurdities as that 
performance contains ; for I quit this life with some 
scruples of conscience arising from that considera- 
tion." 

The will being thus concluded, he was seized 
with a fainting-fit, and stretched himself at full 
length in the bed ; so that all the company were 
alarmed, and ran to his assistance : during three 
days which he lived after the will was signed and 
sealed, he frequently fainted, and the whole family 
was in confusion. Nevertheless, the niece ate her 
victuals, the housekeeper drank to the repose of his 
soul, and even Sancho cherished his little carcass ; 
for the prospect of succession either dispels or mod- 
erates that affliction which an heir ought to feel at 
the death of the testator. 

At last Don Quixote expired, after having re- 
ceived all the sacraments, and, in the strongest 
terms, pathetically enforced, expressed his abomi- 
nation against all books of chivalry ; and the notary 
observed, that in all the books of that kind which 
he had perused, he had never read of any knight- 
errant who died quietly in his bed, as a good Chris- 
tian, like Don Quixote ; who, amidst the tears and 
lamentations of all present, gave up the ghost, or 
in other words, departed this life. The curate was 



OF DON QUIXOTE. l6l 

no sooner certified of his decease., than he desired 
the notary to make out a testimonial, declaring that 
Alonzo Qiiixano the Good, commonly called Don 
Quixote de la Mancha, had taken his departure 
from this life, and died of a natural death ; that no 
other author, different from Cid Hamet Benengeli, 
should falsely pretend to raise him from the dead, 
and write endless histories of his achievements. 

This was the end of that extraordinary gentle- 
man of La Mancha, whose birthplace Cid Hamet 
was careful to conceal, that all the towns and vil- 
lages of that province might contend for the honor 
of having produced him, as did the seven cities of 
Greece for the glory of giving birth to Homer. 
The lamentations of Sancho, the niece, and the 
housekeeper, are not here given, nor the new epi- 
taphs on the tomb of the deceased knight, except 
the following one, composed by Sampson Carrasco : 

Here lies the valiant cavalier, 

Who never had a sense of fear : 

So high his matchless courage rose, 

He reckoned death among his vanquished foes. 

Wrongs to redress, his sword he drew, 
And many a caitiff giant slew \ 
His days of life, though madness stained, 
In death his sober senses he regained. 

THE END. 



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